


Ego Interitu

by sincerelyjessy



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-01-12 10:19:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 34
Words: 97,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincerelyjessy/pseuds/sincerelyjessy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"People like Kurt Hummel were the worst kinds of people because they could destroy a whole person; a whole world, and emerge with nothing but a scratch." Blaine thought he was doomed to spend an eternity teaching public school. But maybe, in the right company, it wouldn't be so bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

               

_"Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinion, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation."_

-Oscar Wilde

* * *

Kurt was having trouble sleeping.

That was no cause for alarm, of course. He always had trouble sleeping. For a very long time, at least.

It's just that his brain wouldn't shut up; it kept working long after his body had given up. As if it feared what lingered in the silence.

_Nothing,_ Kurt wanted to assure his brain, _Nothing._

But maybe that's what was so scary. So he talked. And he was lucky enough to have friends who were willing to listen.

"Don't you just love that?" Kurt gushed, having read Mercedes a line from a play he was reading. "It's something I never really think about, you know? But I should. It's like….really important. It's phenomenal. It's like-"

"It's like, three in the morning. As much as I'd like to stay up and ponder the meaning of life with you, my Dad's standing in my doorway and giving me the stink eye."

"Tell your Dad that I've had a break through and I need someone to stay awake in order to listen to my pointless rambling and agree every time I pause to take a breath."

Mercedes laughed. He could hear as she put her phone down and quoted Kurt word for word and after a few moments of muffled talking she picked the phone back up.

"Could you hold off your existential crisis until at least seven in the morning?" Mercedes asked, but in a way that was dismissive of further conversation.

"I suppose."

"Night."

"Night Cedes." he said, and then a little louder, "Good night, Mr. Jones!"

"Get some sleep, Hummel." Kurt heard Jones Senior say gruffly before Mercedes hung up.

Kurt was leaning against the head board to his bed, laptop resting on his lap, and several tabs open. One tab was open to one of Yahoo's articles that stated: _Catch up on new trends in winter fashion_. He enjoyed reading Yahoo's attempts at being fashion forward; it always gave him a good laugh. Amateurs.

His other tab was open with nine different Wikipedia pages—although the school often advised against using Wikipedia as a viable source Kurt figured what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them— and he was just getting ready to begin typing his thesis statement for his paper when he heard a knock on his door.

"You up, kiddo?" Burt's voice echoed loudly. If Kurt hadn't been up, he certainly would have been after that cattle-call.

"Yeah. Working on English." Kurt called back.

"Good. That's good. Listen, I was going to talk to you-" his Dad stopped mid-sentence. "Can you open the door?"

Kurt set his laptop down on its cooling fan, slipped on his bunny slippers, and shuffled his way across the room. Winter was coming around early that year, and their hardwood floors were freezing. He opened the door and tried to read his Dad's expression.

_Undetermined,_ Kurt decided, crossing his arms in an attempt to warm himself up.

"I, um…I got your progress report in the mail today." Burt started.

_Abort mission, abort mission,_ Kurt thought. "I was getting ready to go to sleep, can we not-"

"Nice try. I heard you talking on the phone, and from the sounds of it you had at least three hours' worth of talking left to do."

It was times like this where Kurt wished he had one of those totally detached parents who couldn't tell their kids apart before having their morning coffee.

Defeated, Kurt's hands dropped to his sides, getting ready for whatever consequences he was going to face. He already knew what the problem was, and was hoping he could avoid this scenario by getting to the mailbox before his Dad did. But alas.

"First, congratulations on your English and History. I'm very proud. Trig is okay, but I'd like to see an A next time." Burt paused, reading his son's face. "It seems like you already know what I'm going to say."

"In my defense, I told you I was horrible at chemistry. I warned you the grade would be less than satisfactory, and you have no right to get upset with me just because things panned out the way I said they would." Kurt was in monologue mode already. "It's mid-marking period. I can bring it up by the time-"

Burt sometimes wondered if letting Kurt sign up for the debate team in middle school was a bad idea. He thought it would reign in his son's confrontational nature, not make it worse.

"I have a right to be upset with you whenever the hell I want. Especially if you're failing a class." he said sternly, watching as Kurt's expression turned from indignant to downright horrified.

" _Failing?_ " He practically snatched the paper from his Dad's hands. He thought he was getting at least a C.

Burt watched his son have a mental break-down and was completely unfazed. Kurt had one of these at least once every few weeks, and after living with the kid for sixteen years they sort of lost their potency. He began to tune Kurt out, and only started talking again when he saw that Kurt's lips stopped moving.

"Now, I emailed your teacher." Kurt groaned, embarrassed. Burt continued, undeterred. "He hasn't gotten back to me yet but I asked him if there was any way you could raise your grade by the time report cards come out."

"I could have handled it myself." Kurt mumbled.

"We'll talk more about it in the morning, bud. Now get some sleep. It's a wonder you're not failing everything with how late you stay up these days."

And then his Dad was gone as if he hadn't just dropped an atomic bomb on Kurt's whole life. If people thought Kurt was sleepless before, he was an officially classified insomniac after that news.

* * *

The weekend went by quickly enough. Kurt and his Dad did talk that Saturday morning about his grades, but it was mostly a repeat of the night before. Kurt tuned him out. A large part of the success in their relationship was knowing when to listen and knowing when it was okay to zone out.

Finn offered to tutor him in Chemistry and that's when Kurt hit absolute rock bottom. That's when it hit him full-force. There was possibly nothing that could have been more depressing at that moment.

"…shopping allowance will be revoked." Kurt heard half of the sentence, tuning back in once he heard the word 'shopping'.

He laughed nervously. "I'm…I'm sorry?"

"Yack it up all you want, but I'm not kidding. No more shopping. I'm not gonna reward bad grades." Burt said.

Wonderful.

"At least he didn't threaten to send you to an all-boy's school." Finn mused after he'd left the room. "My mom pulls that one every time."

"One, we can't afford it. Two, that wouldn't 't exactly be a punishmentfor me." Kurt replied, and when met with a confused stare he elaborated. "It's like if your mom wanted to send you to an all-girl's school."

Finn's glazed over expression was enough to assure Kurt that he got the point.

* * *

That Monday was average enough, and Kurt had more or less gotten over his very short-lived, premature mid-life crisis. He was chatting with Tina and Mercedes on their way to lunch when Rachel made an unwelcome appearance, shattering his good mood.

"Did you get your progress report?" Rachel.

"I got one B and my Mom went coastal." Tina rolled her eyes.

"I got a C in history. I'm sorry, but I really don't give two shits about some dude whose name is Charlemagne." Mercedes attested to.

"Straight A's as always." Rachel said in her annoyingly chirpy voice. "What about you, Kurt?"

"Um…A's in English and History." he started, Mercedes interjecting to say that was to be expected. "I got a B in trig…and _I'mfailingchemistry."_

They all looked at him as if he was trying to hack up a fur ball. He took a deep breath and tried again.

"I'm failing Chemistry."

Rachel looked incredibly alarmed, but Tina and Mercedes wore their tell-tale smirks.

"Maybe if you'd quit staring into Anderson's eyes all day you'd know what the hell was happening." she joked, releasing the tension.

He was thankful for the change of topic, but really wished she had come up with something a little less embarrassing. "Not true. I do not stare."

"I thought you got over that little crush." Tina said. "I knew you were a _liar_."

"I had a little crush for a total of _two days_ my sophomore year. But we've all had our share of embarrassing crushes, haven't we?"

"You're right. Sophomore year was a bad year for all of us." Mercedes concluded, dropping the subject.

Tina, who was still a sophomore, had no problem continuing on the subject. "So…are you going to go get _extra credit_?" she said, her voice filled with implications.

Kurt gazed at her, horrified as the two other girls laughed. They kept talking on the topic, words filled with sexual innuendo.

"How is it you guys know more about gay sex than I do?"

"Two dads." Rachel said.

"Sterek fanfiction." Mercedes admitted.

"Gay porn." Tina answered.

They turned to stare at Tina for a total of three seconds before shrugging and continuing down the hallway with their chatter.

"I could do better." Kurt joked. "I mean, have you seen the way he dresses? The bowties, for crying out loud. And don't get me _started_ on the gel helmet."

"You won't believe what he told my class freshmen year." Tina started, clearing her throat and mocking his voice. "My hair prevents all the chemistry facts from falling out."

They all laughed; Rachel even snorted. "He's got the worst case of dad humor."

"It's cringe-worthy stuff."

That's when he bumped into the aforementioned.

"Kurt!" Blaine said in his overly enthusiastic voice. "Just the guy I was looking for."

Kurt heard his friends snickering, and gave them the finger, hiding it successfully behind his back from his Chem teacher. That succeeded at doing nothing but making them laugh even harder. "Yes, Mr. Anderson?"

Blaine paused, peering back at them before turning his attention back to Kurt. "I just got your email. I think it's really cool how you're taking the initiative here. It's rare to find ambitious students like that around here."

"Thanks." Kurt said, neglecting to mention the fact that it was his Dad who sent that email.

"Do you have a few moments? I'm on my prep and I'd like to discuss options with you." Cue the ridiculously obvious amount of hushed whispering from the trio. Kurt unceremoniously put up a second middle finger; Blaine was still oblivious.

"Sure. I was only going to lunch." Kurt answered, and he waited until Blaine turned around to walk to his classroom before glaring daggers into the hearts of his friends.

"Get it, Kurt." Mercedes whispered and he rolled his eyes before going down the hallway to catch up to his teacher.

* * *

Blaine sat behind his desk, reading glasses resting on the bridge of his nose as he looked Kurt's file over on his computer screen. Kurt watched as the other man made a few faces at whatever he was reading, and thought that maybe that was Blaine realizing Kurt's case was hopeless. Maybe Blaine invited him here simply to give him Burger King forms to fill out; to give him a jump start on his inevitable future.

"Well, something as simple as completing classwork would raise you up to a D, and you're pretty good with that." he said, still staring intently at the screen, not even sparing Kurt a glance.

"It really all comes down to what you get on the next few tests. You have the possibility to raise your grade to a B, but that's only if you get a minimum of a ninety percent on every single test until the end of the marking period."

Kurt resisted the urge to drop his jaw. That was impossible. Even the smartest kids in the class wouldn't be able to accomplish that feat. His Chem teacher was the harshest grader in the school.

"But, I am willing to work out a deal." Blaine said, turning his eyes from the screen to Kurt. "I already talked to Figgins."

Kurt figured it would be something easy, a one time thing like helping out at the school's next science fair.

"I could always use help grading papers. It would help you brush up on your basics, and it would help me be more efficient. I'll give you extra credit for every day you help." Blaine explained, watching in confusion as Kurt sighed in what appeared to be relief. "So, what do you say?"

"That…that sounds great. You're a life-saver."

"No problem. You're helping me more than I'm helping you, trust me." Blaine had a warm smile, Kurt noticed. "So let's work out a schedule."

He clicked some things on his computer screen for a minute as Kurt awkwardly shifted in his chair, looking around the room at the various lab safety posters.

"What days are you free?"

Kurt was about to say only Mondays, but then remembered that his shopping days, which usually took place on Wednesdays, were compromised. "I'm free Mondays and Wednesdays."

"I usually have teacher meetings on Mondays. So…let's make it every Wednesday after school?" Blaine said, looking at Kurt for approval. When his student nodded he clicked a few buttons before turning back to him. "All set. You're free to go."

Blaine stopped to write Kurt a pass so he wouldn't get yelled up for showing up late to lunch.

_There goes my Wednesdays,_ Kurt thought sourly as he walked down the hallways to lunch.

And that was the moment that changed everything.


	2. Chapter 2

" _STOP SHOOTING AT ME_!" Finn yelled at his step-brother, eyes glued to the screen and trying to avoid the bullets that kept coming in his direction. The two had come up with a very nice system. Finn would occasionally join Kurt in Top Model reruns and Kurt, in turn, would have to engage in defeating fictional pixelated villains with him.

"DIE DIE DIE!" Kurt was chanting; now so engrossed in the game that he couldn't even hear Finn's pleas. He was truly a sight to behold, clad in nothing but a white undershirt and pajama pants, hair far from its normal, perfectly styled appearance. It took a while to grow comfortable enough around Finn, but soon enough they settled into a comfortable kinship.

It was a surprise to both of the brothers when they found out early on in their relationship that Kurt, for someone who rarely played, was excellent at video games.

As words came across Finn's half of the screen announcing that he died, he threw his controller down, both hands resting on the top of his head as he stared at the screen in nothing short of distress.

"How do you keep winning?" he asked exasperatedly.

Truth being told, Kurt's tactic was to just keep pressing random buttons until eventually something happened, but an expert never revealed all of their secrets.

"Practice, young grasshopper."

Finn looked as if he was just about ready to pull his own hair out at Kurt's cryptic answer, and Kurt was already thinking up more ways to mess with him when their house phone began to ring, distracting them both from the trivialness of their conversation.

Kurt picked up the phone, only slightly surprised when he heard Rachel on the other line, cutting down to the chase instantly. "Where's Finn?"

"Good morning to you, too." Kurt answered, only slightly irritated. One becomes numb to her clear disregard of basic things like manners after a while.

"Where's Finn?" she repeated, obviously very hell-bent on getting into contact with her boyfriend. Wordlessly, Kurt handed his brother the phone, and walked back up to his room. He had already grown bored with beating Finn for the third time that day at video games, and his hands were actually going clammy; clearly a symptom of hair-product withdrawal.

* * *

He went through his usual motions, styling his hair and changing into a cotton button up. As soon as he was finished, as if waiting for him to look presentable, his phone began to buzz.

He looked at the I.D. briefly before picking it up. "Let me start off by making a request: please don't tell me about any new sales at the mall. That will only serve to send me spiraling into post-shopping depression."

"Don't worry. I just called to ask how yesterday went with Anderbabe." Mercedes said.

He had avoided teasing and persecution all of yesterday due to everyone being preoccupied with Mr. Schue's newest assignment. But he knew there was no way he'd evade it forever.

"What a lovely nickname. Did you come up with that all by yourself?" He was trying his best to deflect, and he knew that his friend saw right through that.

"I'm just teasing you. Lighten up."

He hoped that was true. The last thing he needed was word getting out that he had a crush—which was on all accounts _fictional_ —on his chemistry teacher. As if he didn't get enough unwanted attention just by existing.

* * *

Later on that day Kurt was in the kitchen, giving Puck and Finn a quick lesson on cooking for their personal purposes. He would be lying if he said he didn't know the only reason they wanted these skills was to impress their respective girlfriends, Lauren and Rachel.

Normally he would be disgusted that they were calling upon his impressive culinary skills simply for the purpose of getting laid, but it was a welcome distraction. He hadn't shopped or even been in a mall for over eight days, and it was taking everything in his power not to fall apart at the seams.

"Finn, gimme." He said, grabbing the knife from the clumsy boy's hands and showing him how to carefully remove the pit from the avocado. "Not all your problems are solved by stabbing things repeatedly."

"Only most of them." Puck quipped, and the two high-fived each other, the display serving no purpose except to make Kurt roll his eyes.

It was while Kurt was helping Puck cube avocados that the jock actually thanked Kurt.

"Anything to help my fellow man get lucky." Kurt said distractedly, eyes never leaving the cutting board. "But, I'll tell you, Finn, it's going to take a lot more than a romantic dinner to get into Rachel's pants."

He felt a lull in the conversation and looked up to see Puck and Finn sharing a knowing look. He tried his best to decipher it, feeling left out as he often did with the two, considering the bond they both shared was a decade long and Kurt had only been Finn's brother for a little less than a year.

"Something I should know?" Kurt piped up after the silence prolonged to the point of making him uncomfortable.

Puck turned his gaze to him, smirking in a way that made Kurt feel even more out of place. "Let's just say Finn is no stranger to what it takes to get in Rachel's pants."

Kurt briefly wondered what the hell that was supposed to mean, finally realizing what Finn must feel like whenever Kurt started using words above a seventh grader's vocabulary. But then it hit him all at once and he dropped the knife on the cutting board in utter _shock_.

" _No_." He wasn't sure what he was more upset about, Finn not telling him out of some bro-code, or Rachel not telling him out of simple respect given to a friend…well, frenemy.

Puck was nodding, smirk still in place, and Finn was shooting his friend a look, obviously uncomfortable talking about his personal relations in front of his prude of a step brother.

"They," Kurt lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "They _did the dirty_?"

The two guys stared at Kurt disbelievingly for a hushed moment before turning to each other, throwing their heads back, and bursting out into uncontrollable laughter. Kurt felt his cheeks rapidly begin to heat up in absolute embarrassment.

"Dude, you can't be for real." Puck asked after the laughter died down.

Kurt turned his attention back to the cutting board so he wouldn't have to make eye contact with any of them.

It wasn't Kurt's fault that these things weren't exactly his area of expertise. His world consisted of clothes and musicals and gossip about _other_ people 'doing the dirty' but it never really was his primary concern. Why would it be? He had a lot more things to worry about, like how the hell he was going to get those slushie stains out of his boxers—when allowed enough time the cold liquid dripped down to some _odd_ places. Any glee member could attest to that.

But the resounding point was that Kurt would leave that business of sexual prowess to manwhores like Puckerman and endearing football players like Finn, and he was perfectly content just making it out of high school in one piece so he could move on to bigger and better things. Then, and _only_ then would he worry himself with such trivial things.

"Aw, we hurt his feelings." Puck crooned, which made Kurt turn snide in sheer defense.

"Not even." Kurt sneered. "My whole self-esteem isn't exactly built around my sleaziness, unlike some people in the room."

"Ouch." Puck put a hand up to his heart. "I'm wounded."

Finn was watching their antics, using the distraction so he could slyly try to steal one of the wraps Kurt had already prepared; hand being smacked away by a wooden spoon that left an angry red impression.

"Dude!" Finn said, examining his hand.

Kurt showed no remorse, turning his attention back to showing his ungrateful associates how to finish preparing the dish.

* * *

"Hey, loser." Santana said into the phone in a hushed tone. Blaine heard the sounds of a shifting mattress; figuring she was trying not to wake up Brittany. "I just got your text. What gives?"

Blaine sighed, looking at the wall in front of him. He had been up for a while, so her call had not woken him up. It just startled him out of his tendency to over think. "You know I miss you. It's just…now is not a good time."

"That's what you said last month." Blaine knew this argument was coming. "And the one before that. And the one before that."

"Things keep coming up." He insisted, although he could tell his tone came off more unsure than he intended. Blaine was never really good at lying to people. It just came to the point where he did it so often that most people stopped trying to inquire what he was hiding. No one cared enough to try to open Pandora's box, and he had always been grateful for that.

But then there were people like Santana—determined, strong-headed, stubborn Santana, who had a heart of gold and a grip of steel and just did not know how to let things go.

Like her old high school friend. Things had changed since high school; way more than anyone could have bargained for.

"I'm taking the first flight out to Ohio and there's nothing you can do about it. You're stuck with me." He gritted his teeth to keep from saying something rude just to keep her away. It's not like it would have worked anyway; and all it would serve to do was make him seem like an asshole.

"San…" One last try; one more plea.

"I hope your guest room has heating. You know what happens to my limbs when it gets cold..." She continued, going on for a while before she realized he was no longer speaking. "Is it something I did? Is that why you don't want to see me?"

"No, no, of course not." And that much was true. Santana was one of his only real friends. Even after he came out and his popularity declined slightly, she had always been right there by his side, ready with an arsenal of insults and a mean left swing for anyone that even looked at him funny. And he owed her the world.

But the truth was, he cut himself off from that world long ago, and for good reason. He left high school with big dreams, he was the talk of the town, the crème of the crop. If anyone was going to make something of themselves it was that Blaine Anderson. He may have had hair like a wild boar and the work-ethic of a sloth but he had a certain brightness about him. A spirit; a light that danced just behind his eyes.

Suffice to say it had been a long time since anyone said anything like that about him. And he guessed he didn't like seeing people from those days of hope and optimism; those days where he dared to shoot for the stars. All it did was magnify his failures.

So, he was telling the truth when he said it was nothing against Santana. But he really didn't know how to feel about her seeing his life as it was. He was in the middle of a disaster of a relationship, his job was less than idealistic, and the other day he thought he found a grey hair and nearly offed himself. Because greying at the tender age of twenty-six was definitely not on his to-do list.

And to make it worse, Santana was totally living the dream. She lived in New York city with a hot girlfriend—not that Blaine wanted a hot girlfriend but the idea was nice—a successful modeling career and even a side job as a guest star on that corny soap opera _Falling For Dallas_ that involved a lot of terrible fake accents. Santana's was pretty convincing for a girl that was raised in south New Jersey, but still left a lot to be desired.

"I'll see you next week. And stop frowning. I'm going to suffer from second-hand depression." She drawled, somehow knowing his facial features even from miles away.

He looked down at the lesson plan in his hand, sighing slightly as he realized how much he didn't care about it.

"I'll see you in a week."

"And tell Casanova over there to break out the karaoke machine. We've still got some unresolved things to work out." she reminded him.

"Will do. See you." Blaine said, hanging up before his high maintenance friend could give him any more commands.

It was then that he realized he didn't even bother to tell "Casanova" that Santana was coming to stay at their humble abode for a while. As if the two didn't already have enough to argue about. He just hoped they had the ability to postpone all couple differences for at least a week or two. The last thing he needed was Santana reporting back to their group of friends that Blaine was having relationship problems.

He briefly thought that maybe he could break it to him over dinner on Wednesday, grimacing once again when he realized he had to stay after school with what's-his-name and would not have time to prepare anything.

_Kurt_ , his brain supplied. _His name is Kurt._

Whether his name was Kurt or Ladasha, the student unfortunately had priority over his personal issues. So, he couldn't cancel on him.

_Looks like Wednesday afternoon is just going to be me and Kurt then_ , was his last thought on the subject before turning back to his lesson plan.

 


	3. Chapter 3

There was something about school that filled Kurt with disturbingly homicidal thoughts and tendencies. It wasn't his fault, really. Hating high school was a surprisingly common side-effect of existing. But, it was during lunch when he considered using his plastic fork to stab Azimio in the eye for laughing with food in his mouth that Kurt knew he really had a problem.

"If Summer doesn't come soon I'm going to end up in the news." he complained to Mercedes as they walked to the east wing of the school, he to Chemistry and she to Political Science.

They crossed through the dreaded intersection, Kurt nearly losing a shoe and Mercedes earrings getting caught on ten different things on the journey.

"I feel you."

She stopped in front of the chem lab with a knowing smirk. Kurt glared daggers at her.

As he sat through Chemistry he tried his best to pay attention to whatever Blaine was demonstrating, but he found his mind wandering to various things like what he was going to wear to Finn's football game tomorrow, and whether or not the pudding he ate during lunch may have been poisonous. It was only when Blaine's voice grew closer that Kurt looked up long enough to notice his teacher was almost right in front of his desk. He could tell by the way his voice rose and fell that he must have been asking a question.

Kurt knew better than anyone how to get out of answering a question. It was a technique he'd mastered by the time he was thirteen. He simply stared intently at Blaine, like he understood every single thing the teacher was saying, even nodding in agreement at every pause.

Blaine turned away, fully convinced that Kurt was actually following what he was saying, and chose a different victim, which was a poor girl named Sally Harrington who didn't know the difference between covalent and coed.

He considered stabbing himself with a pencil to get out of class early. Even if it was McKinley, they wouldn't let him bleed to death on the floor.

Or would they?

He decided it wasn't worth taking the chance, plus, he couldn't risk getting any blood on his shirt, since it created stains that were truly a bitch to get out. And not to mention the chance that he could accidently strike a vital vein and end up dying. That would not be cool.

And that's when the thought hit him: _What if I tried to kill myself?_

He definitely did not mean it in a serious manner; definitely not in the suicidal intent. But in the fleeting way that one often considers such virtually impossible things: _what if I meet a celebrity, what if I won the lottery, what if I spotted a U.F.O?_ But this time it was not fleeting. And so, Kurt Hummel began to ponder his own death.

Well, he supposed a lot of people would be sad. His Dad, Carole, Finn, Mercedes, Tina, and everyone else from glee. He even imagined Puck, tough and overly confident Puck crying over his grave and it gave him a funny feeling in his gut. He quickly banished the disconcerting image.

He began to think about all the little things he could miss: catchy show tunes, miraculous sales at the mall, arguing with Mr. Schue, Finn complaining about watching Lifetime movies with him, his Dad's awkward but endearing talks, Rachel's mad conquest for power in a school that genuinely did not care, Mercedes' infectious laughter when she was the only one in the room who got one of his jokes, Tina's sarcasm, complaining about chemistry classes with Mr. Anderson-

Would Mr. Anderson miss him? Like, actually miss him? Or would he just be another "Oh, what a shame. He was such a nice boy." which was the equivalent to a shrug in terms of grieving? The thought of his death being nothing but a "too bad" gave Kurt another weird feeling, so he cut off that line of thought altogether and began to think of English class next period, which would consist of him trying to figure out why the hell Mercutio put up with all of Romeo's bullshit.

The bell rang just then, cutting Blaine's speech short. The young teacher always got so involved in his lessons that he often forgot to pay attention to time.

"Alright, I'm going to ask you guys to write up the pre-lab. We'll go over it in class tomorrow before the experiment." He started saying, but half the class already left. Kurt saw Blaine's charisma falter slightly in what was clearly annoyance before it returned with a vengeance. The teacher chuckled to himself.

Kurt filed that into his brain as reason number seventy that he could not be a teacher. He didn't have the patience for it. But then again, Blaine was too much of a pushover. Kurt thought he would have been better off teaching kindergarten.

It's not like Lima had an abundance of quality kindergarten teachers. In fact, Kurt's very own teacher used to spend nap time sniffing glue. He was aware of this fact because he never really slept during naptime, instead opting to stay awake and people watch. Even back then he was a judgmental prick, and he prides himself on the fact.

As Kurt walked out of the classroom he was stopped by Blaine's voice. "Don't forget to come by after school."

Kurt gave him a confused look for a total of three seconds before he remembered how he was sentenced to extra credit activities for every Wednesday until further notice. He tried his best not to let his disappointment be evident. "Can't wait." He said in a tone that was less than convincing, hardly even sorry for it, either.

Blaine smiled good-naturedly. "Someone's enthusiastic."

"Always." Kurt agreed, smiling now that he realized Blaine could tell he had several places he rather be.

"See you." were Blaine's final words as Kurt headed out of the classroom.

* * *

Blaine had spent most of his day between classes and during prep period texting Santana and telling her what she should and should not bring. He knew she was accustomed to a very luxurious life style, but he doubted he had enough storage space for her whole closet to Ohio.

**Santana:** _I have to look flawless at all times. There's always paparazzi._

**Blaine:** _Not in Lima._

Which was true. It wasn't even on the map, and the rest of the world often liked to forget that places like Lima, Ohio existed. Blaine would like to forget it existed, too, but unfortunately he was reminded every time he woke up and looked out the window.

He was sure if there were any way he would ever become a mass murderer, it would be due to living in the town for one year too long.

**Santana:** _I'm bringing you designer bowties._

Blaine knew a bribe when he saw one. But even he was human.

**Blaine:** _I love you._

**Santana:** _Who doesn't?_

He put his phone away, his last class of the day filing into his classroom.

"Greetings." he said brightly. "Today we'll be discussing the properties of the Nobel gases."

He was met with collective groans, but not even moody teenagers could mess up his good mood now that he knew he was only a week away from getting new bowties. And let it be known that Blaine _does not_ have a problem. Really. It was either bowties or snorting crack.

* * *

That day after school Kurt stopped by his locker briefly before making his way to Mr. Anderson's room, walking to the east wing of the school by himself. He saw what he thought were jocks with some slushies—which was his equivalent of a bomb scare—but all they did was exchange insults with him in passing. It was almost civil; a word that he'd never have used to describe any of them a few moments before.

He walked into the room to see Blaine was already seated at his desk, engrossed in some papers in front of him. Kurt stood there awkwardly for a few moments, waiting to be acknowledged. When he realized he would have to get the teacher's attention he simply walked into the room. Blaine looked up, startled to realize he now had company.

"Oh, Kurt, you're early." He said. "I was just getting a head start." He gestured for Kurt to come toward his desk and halved the pile of papers in his hands.

Kurt sat down at a desk, examining the papers before realizing something. He couldn't grade these.

Seemingly reading his mind, Blaine began to search his desk for a second answer key, until he realized he forgot to make a copy.

"Sorry, copier's broken indefinitely. We'll have to share."

_I don't want to be near you_ , Kurt thought. It was nothing against Blaine, but Kurt just had issues when it came to people in his personal space in general. Especially people he didn't know. He thought about saying something. He thought hard.

See, Kurt's main problem was deciding whether or not to be a rude little shit. But that was simply his lot in life; he couldn't help it.

He decided to be polite, pulling up a chair next to Blaine and grabbing a pen, getting to work immediately. He figured the sooner he finished the sooner he could go.

He was half-way through his fourth test when he just couldn't hold his tongue anymore. "Are these kids brain dead?"

Blaine looked at him due to the sudden break of silence before chuckling a bit. "Yeah, they're not a bright bunch, unfortunately."

"And I thought I was bad at chemistry." Kurt mumbled before returning back to his work. Blaine was very amused by this kid. All of these weeks of class and he was sure Kurt had probably said three words to him during any given week, but now he had unleashed an opinionated monster.

"I'm getting dumber while reading these." Kurt announced after being halfway through the pile. "I'm literally unlearning chemistry right now."

Blaine tried to stifle his laughter, not wanting to encourage Kurt but at the same time completely agreeing with what he was saying. "Believe me; you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into."

"You mean what you've gotten me into."

"How is it my fault?" Blaine set his papers down to actually look at Kurt.

"You're the one who gave me an F."

"I didn't _give_ you an F. You earned it. They just pay me to write it down." Blaine clarified and that shut Kurt right up.

Kurt wasn't used to people actively arguing back. Most people just waited until he was done with his sly comments and then proceeded to tell him something dismissive to end the conversation. But Blaine heard him out, and countered successfully. He was taken aback for a total of two seconds.

"But they also paid you to teach me. Which you failed to do." Kurt said, and he was pretty sure he was on his way to a detention but he didn't even care.

To his surprise Blaine laughed. "That's possible. But it would help if you actually paid attention in class."

Kurt was suddenly quiet. Maybe his act hadn't been as convincing as he thought. "I pay attention." He mumbled, although he knew at this point it was futile.

"Of course." Blaine said sarcastically, and the two went back to grading papers in a companionable silence.

Blaine finished before him, setting aside his pile and leaning back in his chair, stretching. "Thanks for this." He said after a while.

"No problem." Kurt said distractedly, trying to decipher a girl's particularly sloppy hand-writing.

Blaine began to enter the grades from the finished tests into the computer, making conversation in the mean-time. "So, you're one of the Glee kids, right? I heard you guys were pretty good."

"Really? Who told you that?" Kurt couldn't imagine anyone in the school who would like them enough to give them praise.

"Miss Pillsbury." Blaine clarified. Oh, that made sense. It was obvious the guidance counselor was infatuated with Mr. Schue anyway, so even if they did suck she'd never say so.

"You know, I was in Glee Club, too. Back when it was cool." Blaine teased as he continued to enter the grades into the system.

"Really?" Kurt asked, genuinely surprised. He looked up from his papers, staring at his teacher for a while before nodding. "I can actually see it…"

"I'm not sure if I should be offended..." Blaine said, obviously amused. "So do you like Glee? Mr. Schuester runs it right? The Spanish Teacher?"

"Yeah. It's great." Kurt said truthfully. "Mr. Schue and I butt heads sometimes on things like song choices and dance moves and...well, talent. But some of my best friends are in Glee. It's a place where I can be myself, you know?"

Blaine could relate. Glee club was pretty much one of the few things in that school that he actually enjoyed. Sure, he did other things, but all of that seemed like keeping up appearances. He was _supposed_ to like lacrosse. He was _supposed_ to like being popular. And so he did.

"I know." He took the rest of the papers out of Kurt's hands, not wanting to keep him here longer than necessary. "You can go. I'll just finish these up."

"Thanks. I'll see you in class." Kurt said, putting his chair back and gathering his stuff to go.

"See you." Blaine said as Kurt headed out of the door.

And then he was back to a silent room, menial work.


	4. Chapter 4

Mike Chang entered Chemistry class next Wednesday looking like he had just narrowly avoided death by blender. Blaine's eyebrow raised at his student's disheveled appearance, but didn't bother to question it. He'd taught in the school long enough to know there were countless explanations for why anyone would look like that; half of them being completely inappropriate.

Following suit few moments later in the same state was Kurt, and that really sent Blaine's mind reeling. Kurt and Mike? Really? Blaine's gaydar must have been getting incredibly rusty considering he thought Mike was as straight as they come. But then again, he was the same guy that couldn't figure out Santana liked girls until he caught her making out with one senior year.

As the two took their seats for the beginning of his class, Blaine simply couldn't hide his smirk. Hook-ups during school hours? He never really pegged Kurt as the type. As he turned to the board and began to write out the title of the lesson he couldn't help but laugh a bit.

_Go Hummel_ , he thought, holding a new kind of respect for him.

* * *

Kurt was certain he was going to be ten types of scarred for life due to what he just endured. Normally around that time of day he was walking through the halls with Mercedes, but he had left one of his binders in his car.

It was when he was crossing the field to get to the parking lot that he heard a very familiar voice yelling for help. He turned around to see fellow glee clubber, Mike Chang, practically booking it across the field. He looked up to see the industrial sized lawnmower, which was usually driven by a member of the janitorial staff, being operated by someone in a letterman jacket.

Kurt understood the football team's need to publicly humiliate at least five people between each period, but this was really pushing it.

"Knock it off!" Kurt was yelling to them, but his voice was lost in the sound of the puttering motor. Kurt briefly surveyed his surroundings for some kind of authority figure to help him out in the matter, but it took all of two seconds to realize he was on his own.

By that time the lawn mower was close enough for Kurt to recognize the low-life operating it; the one and only Dave Karofsky. He knew the creep wasn't exactly fond of him and that getting involved was pretty risky, but Mike was a friend.

_If I die; I die a martyr,_ Kurt thought.

The result of that decision was Kurt distracting David long enough for Mike to escape to safety. Sure, he tripped several times while trying to outrun that goddamn machine, and he was pretty sure his clothes were suffering severely from rolling around in the grass, but that was friendship. To be completely honest, if Kurt had had a chance to do it all over again he would have wished Mike good luck and booked it to the parking lot, but he supposed there was a reason we're only allowed one shot.

About five minutes in the lawn-mower ran out of gas, and Dave had stepped down from it. Kurt briefly thought the jock was actually going to help him off of the ground, but he instead opted to walk around him.

"Hey, nimrod!" Kurt called out to Karofsky and the jock turned around, as if not used to Kurt's insults by now. It had been three years, for crying out loud.

"Say that a little louder?" Karofsky asked, and Kurt had absolutely no problem repeating it.

"Nim. Rod."

Karofsky grabbed onto the front of Kurt's shirt, hauling him from the ground so that the two were face to face. Kurt had barely enough time to worry about the subsequent wrinkles.

"Don't test me, Hummel." Karofsky said, barely an inch away from Kurt's face.

Kurt examined Karofsky. The jock up close looked every bit as terrifying as he did from afar. But what _really_ got Kurt's attention was this underlying _something_ in Karofsky's gaze.

He didn't have time to ponder it as a teacher came charging across the field and pulled them apart. Mike, thankfully, had retrieved help.

"This is your final warning, Dave!" The middle-aged women admonished.

_He's had around fifteen final warnings,_ Kurt thought warily as he walked away from the scene with Mike Chang in tow.

"Dude, you look-" Mike started but Kurt cut him off.

"Don't talk about it."

The two walked into his Chemistry class and he dared _anyone_ to make a comment about his appearance. Thankfully, Mr. Anderson did not call either of them out on it.

When Kurt left Chemistry and started to make his way to English, he found himself wondering how much longer he could put up with things. Once someone even remotely different from the masses dared to share the hallways with everyone else it was like diving into murky, shark infested waters.

He made his way from class to class with the rigidity of a soldier, and found himself always looking over his shoulder slightly; always double-checking before turning a corner. As much as he would never admit it out loud, or even to himself when he was in the safe confines of his own home, he very much lived in fear. Not in the subtle way that was almost more sinister.

Not that he wasn't fine with that. Don't let people see your weakness. Once they smell a drop of blood they'll all zone in; they'll eat you alive.

And it was with this slight panic hovering over him that he entered Mr. Anderson's classroom for his extra credit assignment.

"Hey, Kurt." Blaine said brightly in a way that a puppy often runs up to greet their owner at the door when left home alone for too long.

"Hi." He said warily, setting his bag down.

He had found time before coming to the classroom to fix his appearance for the most part. But he feared that his sour mood was given away by his voice. Most days he was just fine. In fact, he would have been able to laugh at the sheer _ridiculousness_ of getting chased across a field with a _fucking lawnmower_. But today wasn't one of those days. Especially considering his little encounter with Karofsky afterward had left him literally shaking.

It was as if it had all been building up since the beginning of the week; each little incident piling up, one on top of the other. Kurt wasn't sure who it was in the grand scheme of things that had it out for him, but they surely wanted to see how much it would take for him to break.

He wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

"Are you alright?" Blaine asked, giving Kurt a once over that was trademark for every adult he'd ever met. It wasn't that they were really concerned with his welfare, but they were _supposed_ to be, so they made it very obvious that they cared to the point where it was more of an act then it was a reaction.

"I'm fine." He answered all too quickly, and that cut off all possibilities for conversation. Without even thinking, he pulled up a chair next to Blaine at his desk. He hadn't even considered that the teacher most likely found the time to make a second copy of the answer key. His mind was too preoccupied with other things, and, although he would never admit it, he didn't mind the slight comfort of having someone near him.

If Blaine found Kurt's actions odd he didn't let on, getting right down to business. He handed Kurt his half of the papers, and mercifully did not try to engage in small talk.

Kurt tried his best to concentrate on the words in front of him, but they seemed to swim across the page. No matter how he tried to piece it together they just _would not_ make sense. He didn't even try to make sense of it after a while. It seemed too pointless. Like all of this. High school was _pointless_.

"Kurt?" Blaine questioned, and if Kurt had been paying attention he would have noticed that the only way Blaine would have realized something was wrong was if he were watching him.

"Hm?" Kurt replied, not trusting himself to form full sentences. Not wanting to give himself away.

"The paper's upside down." Blaine said gently, passing up the opportunity to tease him for it.

"Oh." Kurt said, turning it right-side up and managing to make enough sense of it to begin grading. He got through about three papers before he heard Blaine's voice interrupting his train of thought.

"Kurt?"

And Kurt was prepared for Blaine to ask him a bunch of questions about what was wrong; about what he could do to help ensure Kurt a "safe and successful" high school experience. He'd heard it a million times before; out of several different mouths. The only difference between them and Blaine was that Blaine had a way of at least pretending to be sincere.

"You can go."

Kurt looked up, slightly surprised. That had not been what he was expecting. Where was the speech? Where was the inquisition? No, something about this was _all wrong_.

But he wasn't even going to pause to question it, because if he asked too many questions he would crush the overwhelming feeling of gratitude that was beginning to stem.

"Thank you." was all he said, packing up and heading to the door. He stopped at the door, turning around and regarding Blaine for a moment before saying, "Have a good day, Mr. Anderson."

Blaine probably would have returned the sentiment, but it was obvious to anyone that it was a bit too late for that.

* * *

Blaine drove to the airport to pick up Santana, blasting Katy Perry's newest single and resisting the urge to roll his windows down and sing along at the top of his lung for numerous reasons: one being that it was too cold, and also it would attract way too much attention.

After a while he found he was shutting the music out, mind still on Kurt Hummel from his seventh period class of Juniors. It took him all of ten minutes in the student's company to realize that the result of his appearance earlier that day was definitely _not_ due to some hook-up, but was more likely caused by some sort of bullying.

The thing was, all throughout Blaine's high school experience he had been in the same place as Kurt in the _emotional_ sense, but it never really escalated to physical violence. But then again, Blaine had not been as out and proud as Kurt was either, and he lived in South Jersey, not the unbelievably bigoted cesspool that was Lima. Really, if given enough thought, his and Kurt's high school experiences were completely different.

Blaine would have tried to talk to the student about it if he thought that was what Kurt wanted. But he could tell better than most when someone simply wanted to be left alone. Still, he had a right to worry.

When he arrived at the terminal for Santana's particular flight, it took him ten minutes to finally spot her, doused in leopard print from head to toe in a way that should have been tacky but she managed to make it gorgeous, and unfairly so.

"Anderson!" She approached him, her arms wide open and hand making a "gimme" gesture. He rolled his eyes fondly and made his way over, yelping when she squeezed him in a bone crushing hug, and for a few seconds of his life absolutely everything was _boobs_.

She saw the look on his face and couldn't help laughing. "If you've got it flaunt it, baby." She even did a shimmy for emphasis and he had to look away.

"Noted." He was unable to hide the grin on his face. "I miss you."

She stopped to really look at him; her lips pursed.

Blaine knew she wouldn't get it, and would probably brush off his declaration. After all, even in high school he was known as the slightly odd kid who said and did peculiar things. People who knew him were used to it. But he really did miss her, even though he was reluctant to her coming to visit. It just didn't hit him how much he missed her until she was right in front of him, reminding him what exactly it was he would have to do without the moment she left again.

"Come on." she said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "I have to go to luggage claim, and then afterward you are taking me home to that gorgeous boyfriend of yours."

That was the part he _wasn't_ looking forward to.


	5. Chapter 5

Kurt was meditating like Rachel suggested, humming as he sat cross legged on his bed.

As his thoughts got truly volatile his Dad knocked on the door. "Kurt? You okay in there?"

Kurt thought there was no right way to answer that question. The truth was, in times of stress Kurt often found it therapeutic to imagine various scenarios in which he was put in a position to deal out revenge on his various enemies. But, of course, revenge is a _bad word—_ or so Miss Pillsbury insists—and should _never be the answer_.

Even so, he was entitled to his imagination. And in his imagination practically _everyone_ was so royally screwed that it wasn't even laughable. Burt's interruption had put an end to that.

"I was meditating." He offered up as he opened the door. "You should try it. It's relaxing.

Burt looked on at his son before shaking his head disbelievingly. "If you're planning something illegal at least wait until you're no longer in my custody."

"It'll be _too late_." Kurt insisted, trying to sound serious but not being able to hide the smile on his face.

"You're a really weird kid." Burt remarked fondly. "When you're done being a criminal mastermind there's dinner on the table."

"I'll be down in a moment." Kurt went back in his room and decided to get in some studying for midterms before joining him.

* * *

"…I couldn't even look her in the eye. It's just…okay, I know you think I'm picky. But even you have to admit that wearing polka dots and stripes in the _same outfit_ is a sin."

Kurt was talking to Finn as he watched his brother struggle at _Dance Dance Revolution_. He figured if Finn was going to stay inside and play video games every Sunday at least he should be moderately active. Plus, he was also determined to get rid of Finn's man-boobs if it was the last thing he did.

"Sure, man. Whatever you say." Finn said, absolutely _winded_ from the game but actually slightly ahead of Kurt in the score. Wow. Who knew?

"Even _you_ wouldn't leave the house in something like that." Kurt said, but then realized his step brother was not responding. "…right?"

"Like you'd _let_ me." Finn reminded him and Kurt had to acknowledge that much was true. If Finn was going to be associated with him now there was no way he could leave the house looking any way. He let Finn keep his plaid shirts, and his nylon vests, and his general lumber jack chic appearance. But Kurt had _limits_. He cringed at the thought of Finn walking down the hallway, and greeting him with a striped shirt and polka dot shorts.

Finn watched what he had learned to recognize as Kurt imagining a terrible scenario and he had to laugh.

"Dude. Relax." he said, grabbing his brother by the shoulders and ruffling his hair despite the squawks of protest. After a few moments the giant let him go and Kurt could do nothing but try to smooth his hair out ruefully.

* * *

Kurt came to school around noon that Monday due to a dentist appointment. He was walking away from checking in with the front office, headed to his Trig class when Tina found him.

"You're just in time." She linked arms with him and steered him toward the opposite direction of his class.

"In time for what?"

"Sophomores and Juniors were just called down to an assembly." She looked uncharacteristically excited.

" _And_?"

"It's an _anti-bullying_ assembly."

He looked at her in stunned silence before his lips began to twitch and before he knew it he was giving into the temptation and practically _cackling_.

"You're _joking_." He wheezed out between bouts of laughter.

"I can't make this up." She insisted. "Oh my god, I can't _wait_."

"I hope there's a corny slideshow." Kurt said as they began to walk again toward the auditorium.

"I hope they have a slogan."

"I hope they do a Q and A."

"I already have some questions jotted down." he said, pausing to get the wrinkled notebook paper out of the pocket of her leather jacket. "What do you do if your bully is a demented cheerleading coach?"

"Better: How do you get slushie stains out of white fabric?"

"Ooo, good one."

* * *

The assembly was a load of crock-shit just as Tina and Kurt predicted. Unfortunately, there was no Q and A, probably at the request of Mr. Figgins.

The speakers were a couple whose son was bullied and it resulted in his suicide. His name was Jamie—a name that stuck with Kurt for the wrong reasons. Sure, Jamie died, and that was sad. But Jamie is also just a _really_ nice name. And Kurt thought that sometimes it's better to remember things for a good reason then it is to recall out of sadness.

They spoke of Jamie, and there _was_ a slide show. And it was in no way corny. There was not a dry eye in the room; even Puck was tearing up a few rows behind Kurt.

But the assembly began to go downhill as they let some of the scheduled student speakers begin to talk.

Kurt and Tina nearly _lost their shit_ when cheerleaders, hockey players, guys in _lettermen jackets,_ began to talk about the kind of bullying they faced each and every day. Of course none of the kids who actually got bullied were asked to speak at the assembly. Not one person from the glee club, or the AV club, or even a loner was asked to share their story. And even if they were approached, most of them would have turned it down.

Because it's really hard to spill your heart out in front of a room of people that are responsible for most of your problems.

So Kurt watched as phony after phony talked about their personal stories, and tried his best not to say something derivative or laugh too loudly.

Blaine was a few seats away from Kurt, sat down with his class of sophomores and looking equally as amused as Kurt was. As if feeling eyes on him, the teacher turned around and caught Kurt staring at him.

Kurt wanted to be embarrassed for shamelessly people watching, but there was something in Blaine's facial expression that made him feel self-assured. He held his gaze for a moment before looking away.

One cheerleader began to recount the time she was shunned by all of her friends because she wore a side pony-tail instead of a normal one and both Kurt and Blaine made eye-contact at the same time, actually sought each other out, and rolled their eyes at her "heart-wrenching" story.

The rest of that portion of the assembly went on like that. Someone would say something stupid or offensive or completely false, and the two pessimists would look at each other and shake their heads, or make faces of disgust.

Tina was completely oblivious to Kurt and Blaine's interactions. She was too busy texting on her phone, already bored with what was happening.

"And our next speaker is…Quinn Fabray. Miss Fabray?"

For a moment everything stopped. Kurt scanned the room for Quinn; a few dozen questions in his mind. Quinn hadn't been back in school for the first few months. Even if she had, this would be the kind of thing she'd turn her nose up at; in distaste.

"Bullying? It's the natural order. It weeds out the strong from the weak." He could imagine her soft lilt of a voice in his head, cold and unaffected, brain-washed by the lure of popularity and one Sue Sylvester.

But then again, Quinn had changed after…everything. Or at least that's what he heard. Their relationship was on a superficial level. He didn't really know all that much about her. So maybe assemblies like this really _were_ her thing.

The problem was the silence stretched out for too long. Quinn didn't show up to speak. Mr. Figgins called for her a few more times and then sort of shrugged. They moved on to the next segment. There was a chance someone had put her name on the roster as a cruel joke.

The couple came back onstage to start discussing prevention methods for bullying and such and Kurt felt really bitter and downright cruel for thinking: _This won't help anyone. This wouldn't have helped Jamie._

He listened though, and gave the couple his respect. He resisted the urge to turn to Blaine and watch his reaction, found it odd that he missed their conversation-that-wasn't-really-a-conversation.

The assembly, mercifully, ended when the bell rang for the next period. The Seniors and Freshmen would have to sit through it next. Kurt resisted the urge to stay back just to see if Quinn would finally make her appearance. He was actually sort of curious as to what her story would be; what she would deem worthy enough to share with the rest of them.

That curiosity lasted a total of five minutes before he found himself in the lunch room, actively wondering whether or not the corn was recycled.

* * *

Before Kurt knew it he was back in Chemistry class, and Blaine was writing something on the board as other students filed into the room. The bell rang, announcing the beginning of the period.

"Hello, hello." he said in that annoying way—now endearing, Kurt's mind added helpfully—that he had of always being cheery. "Now, I hope you all enjoyed the wonderful assembly."

Blaine continued talking to the class about the message of the assembly, scanning the class and making eye-contact with Kurt, winking briefly before his sweeping gaze continued.

Kurt's breathing pattern stuttered ever so slightly. Did he just imagine that? Or did he and Blaine just share a private moment? Like friends. Or something.

If Kurt had been really off-kilter that day he would have mistaken the fluttering happening in his chest for his stupid schoolboy crush returning with a vengeance. But of course, all he simply needed to do was remind himself that Blaine thought _chemistry was cool_ and _wore bowties_ and all of his feelings were gone in an instant.

* * *

By Wednesday Kurt felt like walking death. Glee practice had gotten borderline murderous due to Sectionals coming up, his stress had reached a catatonic level due to upcoming exams, and if anyone were to walk up to him and even suggest he sleep more he'd bite their head off.

He had already fallen asleep in several classes, Chemistry included. And only one of his teachers cared enough to actually reprimand him about it.

Kurt felt someone nudging him awake, and he wanted to ignore it, his confused brain forgetting he was in school and thinking it was a Saturday morning and Finn was waking him up to show him something juvenile on Youtube.

"Mmm…go away." He muttered, eyes still closed. It was then that he realized he was sitting, and his upper body was resting on a _desk._

Every synapse in Kurt's brain joined in for a resounding: _uh-oh._

It was really the laughter of the other students that gave it away. He looked up, memories rushing back to him. He had fallen asleep. In Chemistry.

He looked up to see a very disappointed Mr. Anderson shaking his head at him.

"Can you give us the _honor_ of being in your conscious presence?"

And then Blaine was back in the front of the room and Kurt was feeling a little bit like a kicked puppy even though he did indeed deserve it.

Feeling a bit bad for his blatant disrespect, which was a first, he approached Blaine after the bell rang as opposed to simply walking out of the classroom. Kurt watched as Blaine continued to erase the blackboard, obviously not aware of his presence. Not knowing what else to do, Kurt cleared his throat, causing the teacher to turn around.

"I'm not in the best mood right now, Kurt." Blaine said honestly, in a way that slightly surprised Kurt. For once his voice was devoid of any sort of energy or enthusiasm. Kurt had thought that Blaine only had too settings: ecstatic and downright manic. This was…different. To say the least.

"We'll talk about this after school."

Kurt nodded, mumbling a quick "sorry" before heading out of the classroom.

* * *

Blaine felt ever-grateful to Santana, who had sent him distracting texts throughout the day such as:

**Santana:** _Your DVR is a mess. Doctor Who? Really, Blaine?_

**Santana:** _Romeo has just left the coop. Which means you are free to rendez-vous with your string of lovers now_

**Santana:** _Hey, speaking of lovers, isn't it funny that I got more dick than you in high school?_

**Santana:** _Blaaaaaineeee. Come back. Or I'm driving over there._

**Santana:** _Brittany says hi. I can't imagine why she would want to talk to you._

**Santana:** _You are a horrible, horrible person._

The texts were an amusing distraction, although he refused to reply to them. Santana had been staying with Blaine and his boyfriend for the past few days, and she was her usual opinionated; attention grabbing self.

**Santana:** _No wonder you're gay. You don't know how to treat a woman._

That one nearly made him laugh out loud in the teacher's lounge, and he received several weird looks from its occupants as he almost choked on the food in his mouth. The texts, for a few brief moments, helped to get him out of his slump. He found himself with a lot less patience lately, and it was a lot harder to keep up his act.

It was the end of the day and he was waiting for Kurt to arrive when his phone rang.

"I'm not doing this now." He said as a way of greeting, which resulted in angry huffing on the other end of the line.

"So when are we going to do this?"

"I don't know. But not now. I'm at _work,_ Seb, and-"

Sebastian Smythe, wonderfully inept in all matters that involved manners, cut him off. "I think now is just a good as time as any."

Blaine sighed openly, feeling an oncoming headache. "Wonderful."

"Sarcasm does not suit you, dear." Sebastian quipped and Blaine rolled his eyes to the empty room. Sebastian was practically the one who _taught_ him the power of sarcasm in high school.

"I already told you several times. Sam is just a friend. Honest."

"Friends don't touch each other like that." Sebastian said, and that's when Blaine _actually_ laughed.

"That's not what you said that one time after lacrosse practice."

Blaine could practically hear the wheels in Sebastian's brain whirring, trying to come up with a good response to that. He was pretty damn smug with himself, if he was to be honest.

"...Weren't we friends with benefits at that point?" Sebastian settled on asking after a while, and it was the question in his voice that made Blaine feel a sudden bout of fondness.

Because the truth was during high school Sebastian had been _a lot_ of things to him. He started out as a team mate and ended up being a mentor when Blaine came out; dragging him to gay bars and teaching him the terminology. Neither of them could remember when they crossed that territory from mentor and protégé into sort-of-kind-of best friends. But it happened. And like everything in life their relationship continued to evolve, continued to grow and have new elements until one day they found themselves in love.

Blaine remembered Sebastian being pissed at him, so incredibly annoyed that "such a dweeb" had "wormed a way" into his heart.

"It's because I'm tiny." Blaine remembered offering up as way of explanation.

"What?" Sebastian asked, exasperatedly. Blaine's comment had distracted him from his rant.

"Because I'm fun-sized. That's how I was able to fit. In your heart, I mean."

And Blaine would always replay the moment where Sebastian gazed at him with a mixture of irritation and adoration all at once, looked at Blaine as if he were the weirdest kid on the planet, and was obviously confused as well as proud that he learned to love someone so _odd_.

Sebastian had never said I love you. Never needed to. He simply mumbled, "Dork." before moving forward and pressing Blaine's mouth against his.

And that had been the turning point.

"I'll see you later. Love you." Blaine said into the phone, trying to end the conversation before Kurt walked into the classroom.

"Yeah, yeah." Sebastian said, and Blaine knew by now that the 'I love you' was implied.

Sure, things between them were slightly different compared to those years ago, but certain things would never change.

But seeing Kurt helped Blaine to shake off the last bits of nostalgia. He watched as Kurt took a pile of tests and an answer key and made his way to a student's desk across the room. He sighed, actually feeling slightly guilty for reprimanding the student earlier even though he totally deserved it. And even though Kurt was being a total brat, he couldn't help but indulge him.

"I'm not mad, Kurt." He said, gesturing the chair that he had already placed next to his own. "You can still sit up here. If you want."

Kurt looked up at him for a few moments before moving from the desk and taking a seat next to Blaine. Something about the fact that Kurt actually _wanted_ to sit next to him gave him the vote of confidence he needed.

They graded papers in a comfortable silence for a while. This was routine; this was familiar. Being with Kurt on Wednesday afternoons had become the new normal.

They were twenty minutes into it before he heard Kurt say, "Sorry."

"You know, people fall asleep in my class all the time. I just expect more from you." Blaine explained.

"I've just been a bit busy, lately."

"It's no excuse, Kurt." Blaine said shortly, snapping a little. "Just don't fall asleep in my class again or I'll give you detention, okay? And then that means you'll have to spend your Wednesdays and Thursdays cooped up in a room with me." He said, ending with a small smile to let Kurt know he wasn't too upset.

"And who would want that?" Kurt said playfully in a way that, in the wrong situation, could be interpreted as flirtatious.

Blaine dwelled on that for a moment before clearing his throat and drowning out the thought by focusing on the papers before him.


	6. Chapter 6

" _Dude_ , these carolers are _amazing_." Finn said as he dragged Kurt along by his designer sleeves.

Kurt mentally groaned. Of course, the one-time his Dad let up and actually allowed him to go to the mall he was to be supervised by his oaf of a brother.

And to make it worse, everywhere he turned his line of vision was accosted with decorations and a ridiculous amount of people frantically moving about in _atrocious_ holiday sweaters. Kurt swore if he heard one more horrid rendition of Jingle Bells he might faint from how underwhelmed he was.

Kurt didn't hate Christmas. Not really.

It was just not the best time of the year for him. It hadn't been in a while. And the fact that there were so many songs telling him to be _jolly_ and _jovial_ and _thankful_ was like salt to his wounds.

But he was by no means a Scrooge. He was not the Grinch. He was simply unaffected by it all.

"Be right back. I need to go use the little boy's room." Kurt said to Finn as his brother listened to a group called the Warblers do a choir version of _Baby It's Cold Outside._

"I'll go with you." Finn said, reluctantly pulling his gaze away from the performance.

"I'm not going to fall in; if that's your concern." Kurt started to walk away. "I'll meet you back here in five minutes."

Finn looked a bit unsure, but Kurt didn't give him time to ponder it; quickly blending in along with the rest of the crowd.

He could taste it. He could touch it. And it was _his_.

_Freedom_.

He almost said hallelujah. Almost. Damn Mercedes.

He weaved his way through the crowd, eager to at least buy a new pair of skinny jeans or something. He felt his hands shaking at the prospect of getting to hold a shopping bag once more and that's when it really hit Kurt that he had a problem. But it was too late to do anything about it; he was a diehard shopaholic. And there were worse things to be in Lima. After all, he could be gay.

Oh wait.

_You are on a roll, aren't you_ , Kurt thought to himself, his consciousness being a bit more self-deprecating than usual today.

It must have been all the damn Christmas lights.

Kurt approached one of his favorite boutique stores and upon seeing the front display he felt his heart racing. _Together at last_. He took a few tentative steps, appreciating every moment until he was face to face with the glass. He briefly thought about dramatically pressing his face against it and just reveling in the moment, but he quickly realized that the glass was probably filthy. Instead he simply placed each palm of his hand against it, getting as close as his self-preservation would allow and simply drinking in the sight.

There was something really beautiful about seeing something you want and being able to get it. No work; no struggle. No discrimination. Just an exchange of cash and whatever he wanted was his. And really, what was a few dollars compared to the feeling of instant gratification?

"What was wrong with the shirt?"

"It was juvenile, Blaine. Juvenile."

The name caught Kurt's attention, causing him to tear his gaze away from the display and to the exit of the store, where a very stunning woman that looked vaguely familiar was storming out with…with _Blaine_ in tow.

"I think it was nice."

"You would."

Kurt wished he could see the shirt as a point of reference, but with Blaine's history of clothing options chances are it really was something hideous. But then he remembered that he was staring and quickly looked away, turning his attention back to the shop window and hoping not to be seen.

After all, he didn't want to interrupt Blaine's shopping trip with his girlfriend; who was practically supermodel gorgeous.

_Well done, Mr. Anderson_ , Kurt thought to himself as he tried to walk past them as conspicuously as possible. He was almost there; almost pass them and in the store when-

"I'm checking out Macy's. Please don't buy that shirt while I'm gone."

"Yes, ma'am." Blaine said, and she nudged him playfully.

And then she was walking off and Blaine turned to head back into the store just as Kurt was sneaking into the entrance and _bam_. Kurt was spotted. It was from this experience among several others that he knew he would make a really shitty spy.

" _Kurt_?" Blaine questioned, sounding surprised—but pleasantly so, Kurt wasted no time noting.

"Hi." Kurt said meekly, hoping that it wasn't obvious he had been spying on Blaine and his girlfriend. It was weird to see his teacher outside of school. After all, they had been on Christmas vacation for only a few days and Kurt was already starting to forget what the hallways looked like.

"Hey." Blaine said, so casually as if he were running into an old friend. And Kurt appreciated that; the way he just skipped over the awkwardness and spared both of them the horrible strain of forced conversation.

"Hi." Kurt repeated, laughing a bit this time because he _just said that_ and _oh my god could he get any stupider_.

"How are you?" Blaine asked, beginning to walk into the store and looking at Kurt expectantly and that's when Kurt realized: _He wants you to follow him, idiot_.

He willed his feet to move in stride with Blaine's, thinking of a non-menial answer. "Eh."

"What does that mean?" Blaine asked, amused.

"It means 'eh'." Kurt clarified and that actually earned him a laugh. It was warm; genuine and there was even a squeak tacked on at the end that made Kurt's heart do back flips.

_Calm down_ , Kurt begged the dumb organ in his chest, _why are you always doing this to me?_

"I take it Christmas isn't your thing."

"Understatement." Kurt said, wondering when Blaine was going to stop the obligatory conversation and leave. But that moment didn't come. It's as if the teacher actually _wanted_ to talk to him.

"Ah, come on. It's not that bad." Blaine insisted. "There's something about Christmas that's…charming."

_You're charming,_ Kurt's brain thought and Kurt had to cut it off with an: _lol how about no._

"It's charming if you're six." Kurt teased before he could stop himself. There was something that was just so effortless about talking to Blaine; that he sometimes forgot that the two of them weren't friends and he couldn't just engage in playful banter.

"That's six and a half to you, mister." Blaine countered.

Kurt's legs actually threatened to give way underneath him and he was absolutely done with himself. He was so _smitten_ it was gross.

_I'm giving you ten seconds to get your act together, Hummel_ , he thought to himself.

"So what about you?" Kurt heard himself saying before he could register it. "How have you been?"

Blaine was currently looking through a rack of clothes— _those are so not your color,_ Kurt thought—and looking utterly stressed.

"Great, actually. Busy." Blaine said, and he turned to Kurt with one button-up in each hand. "Tell me, are these too formal for a Christmas party?"

"No, but they're too ugly." Kurt practically blurted out and continued to mentally kick himself for it. Blaine sighed and put them back and Kurt would be damned if Blaine didn't literally embody what a sad puppy would look like.

"You wouldn't mind loaning me your skills, would you?" Blaine asked, but before he even got the words out Kurt was already scanning the racks and the shelves, taking out a few shirts and handing them to Blaine.

It was his primary rule to lend his fashion knowledge to those in need of it; it was simply being a Good Samaritan.

"Try those on." Kurt said. "I'm sure your girlfriend will _love them_."

Blaine opened his mouth as if about to say something, but then shook his head to himself and sort of laughed quietly. Like he was sharing a private joke with himself.

"Thanks, Kurt. And early Merry Christmas." he said.

"Early Merry Christmas." Kurt said back, and they waved—well, Kurt waved, Blaine's hands were full—and walked their separate ways.

* * *

Blaine tried the shirts on and he had to admit they made him feel different, not in a bad way, but just in a way. They were definitely things he would not have picked out on his own, but they suited him. They gave him a sophisticated look.

Santana actually whistled.

"Sebastian will love these." She insisted, surveying him. "That is if I don't have you myself, first."

"Flattery will get you anywhere." He purred seductively and they stared at each other for a few moments before she burst out into laughter.

"Thank God he loves you." Santana said, holding her side.

"Hey! I'm totally sexy."

"When you keep your mouth shut." She reminded him. "Now let's buy these and get out of here, my legs are killing me."

"Yes, your majesty."

He dodged her attempt at punching him in the arm as they walked to join the long line at the front of the store.

'Not cool, dude.' was the text Kurt received over half an hour later as he walked out of a store wearing a new pair of sunglasses simply because he _could_.

'Sorry…' He sent back. And his phone buzzed a second later as he got a frowny-face as a reply. As he walked back to the front of the mall where he left Finn, Kurt caught a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of his eye and turned around because he _knew_ who it was by simple intuition.

And there stood Quinn, donning a white lace dress and a woolen hat, her outfit containing way too many contradictions but somehow her slight frame and upheld chin made it work; made Kurt feel as if _he_ were the one who was dressed wrong.

She stood out from the crowd in the way that only Quinn Fabray could; the white contrasting considerably to the shades of green and red that surrounded them. Everyone else had somewhere to be; were frantic in their efforts to get somewhere. But she simply stood, looking around idly. Every time she caught sight of someone rushing somewhere it seemed to trigger something inside her; her face would light up in recognition. Then she'd walk a few steps forward only to stop walking again.

Like she knew she had somewhere to be but couldn't quite remember where.

"Quinn." He said, and she turned her head sharply, staring at Kurt long and hard until something clicked and she walked over.

"Hi, Kurt." Her lips were upturned into a tiny smile.

"How are you feeling?"

Most people assumed Quinn had been out of school because she was sick, and that she would be returning as soon as her condition would allow it.

"Better." Her expression seemed dazed. "I was a bit ill. But I'm better now."

"Good." He said. "Glee club misses you."

Something about what he said triggered something. The muscles in her face that upheld her smile twitched slightly, causing it to falter for a quick-second in the way that most people would have overlooked. But then it was back; bigger and so bright that it made Kurt forget it had ever been gone.

"How sweet. You tell them I'll be back after the break."

"Will do." Kurt said, starting to turn to walk away before turning back to say, "Merry-"

But she was already gone.

* * *

Blaine was surprised that he had managed to survive the holidays without actually resorting to drowning out his sorrows in spiked eggnog like he did the previous year. His parents had insisted on visiting without warning, and Santana was forced to give up the guestroom and sleep on the couch for _three days_. It also didn't help that her flight to head back to New York was delayed due to bad weather.

Therefore Santana was crankier than usual and was a complete lack of help when it came to dealing with his parents.

"What is it with all of the décor?" His father asked, examining a particular painting on the wall of a porcelain doll. "It's very odd."

"It must be a queer thing." His mother whispered to him in way of explanation.

Blaine and Sebastian overheard the whispered conversation, sharing a knowing look. His parents weren't…homophobic. Not exactly. They were just very politically incorrect people, and usually tried not to get involved in that aspect of Blaine's life. He had caught his father, on several occasions, describing Sebastian as his roommate to questioning family members.

That was partially the reason he had turned to alcohol last Christmas, because he knew if he didn't he'd accidentally end up hitting something besides a punching bag.

His mother was a small woman who always looked bigger than she was due to voluminous hair-styles and expensive mink coats. She always wore lipstick that was two shades too light, pearl earrings, and always smelled of cigarette smoke. She took tacky to another level, but there was something about the pitter-patter her heels made as she scurried across the floor that reminded Blaine of his childhood.

"Dear…I meant to ask." His mother had said on their second evening there, pulling him into a corner. "That Santana girl…is she _like you?_ "

Blaine squinted at his mother, perfectly aware of what she was trying to say but feigning confusion just to make her _say it_.

"You know…" she lowered her voice drastically. "… _gay_."

"Of course not." Blaine answered. "She just enjoys scissoring other girls, no big deal."

The look on his mother's face was priceless; her mouth frozen into a comical 'o'. She stood like that as Blaine walked away, snickering. Sometimes he couldn't help himself when he messed with his parents. He fully admitted to himself that he could be a very spiteful person. Because he couldn't help but wonder why it was so easy for them to be there for him _now_ when they were absent in his life when he needed it the most.

He remembered coming out to his Dad. He did it very suddenly; over the dinner table. His mom was away at some resort at the time; which she did a lot whenever she got into an argument with his Dad.

"I'm gay."

And his dad _kept eating_. He had ignored him as if he didn't say anything. Blaine could feel his hands getting clammy, and his throat starting to close up. Maybe he hadn't heard? He swallowed nervously before trying again.

"Dad?" His father looked up.

His Dad stared at him for a few more moments before looking down at his food again. Blaine saw it now; the way the hand holding the fork was shaking a bit. His Dad definitely heard him.

Blaine's father was of a medium build, tall in a way that Blaine would never be. He was balding slightly, no doubt due to stress. Running a multi-million dollar corporation did that to a guy. And Blaine had been so thankful that he took after his mother because as much as he hated his hair he would hate it even more if he started losing some of it.

"Dad?" Blaine tried again, this time a little quieter; wishing he would _say something_.

But his father continued to ignore him and they ate in silence and Blaine went upstairs and cried for a bit before calling Santana and telling her about it. She told him that it could have been worse; it could have been way worse and he nodded and sniffled and agreed. He'd heard terrifying stories about kids getting kicked out of their houses and being beaten and Blaine had decided that he was _lucky_. Even if he didn't feel that way sometimes he was extremely lucky.

That next morning his Dad talked to him as if nothing happened, and Blaine never brought up his sexual orientation again for a full year.

Which is why Blaine was so grateful. Because as imperfect as his parents are they've come a long way from where they started, and they had learned to accept Blaine's identity, even if they didn't exactly like or understand it.

He rolled his eyes when his Dad pulled Sebastian to the side and started talking law with him.

"You sure you don't want to come work for me?" his Dad kept asking him. "We could use more people who know their way around a courtroom."

Sebastian smiled charmingly. "As much as I appreciate the _repeated_ offer; I couldn't possibly leave my current job."

Blaine knew that better than anyone. Why the hell else would someone like Sebastian Smythe be stationed in a place like _Ohio_ if it weren't for actually attaining his dream job.

"How much are they paying you, kid?" The older Anderson asked, putting an arm around Sebastian's shoulder and pulling him close. "I'll _double_ it. Hell, I'll _triple_ it."

Sebastian turned around, making eye-contact with Blaine and mouthing 'help me'.

Blaine laughed, deciding he was going to break out the booze after all.

Everything went so smoothly for the past two days that Blaine was certain they were due for a screw-up of some sort. But then they had made it to the night of the third day and he had naively convinced himself that _maybe_ he had escaped it this time.

But as he bit into the pot roast his mom insisted on preparing his Dad posed the question. "So, have you gotten a real job yet?"

Blaine knew this argument. It happened every single time his parents visited. They both held such high-esteem for Sebastian the lawyer and wondered why their son hadn't aspired to something just as respectable. Blaine knew that picking on his job was an outlet; a way to keep them from commenting on his sexuality instead. But it still kind of hurt.

"We both know that teaching isn't going to cut it. It would help if he actually had a useful degree, too."

Sebastian chuckled like it was some kind of joke until Santana shot him a look that made him stop.

"I get a paycheck, don't I? So it qualifies as a real job." Blaine explained, trying his best to keep his patience.

"You know who else gets paychecks?" His mother chimed in as she began to fold her napkin into a neat square. "Dentists. And we all know that's a made-up profession. Why, I haven't gone to the dentist a day in my life and my oral hygiene is _impeccable_."

"They've got a point." Sebastian piped up.

Blaine and Sebastian had that argument in private several times. The job at McKinley was supposed to be temporary; just until Blaine could get back on his feet and find a different job. But then weeks had gone by, which turned to months and before they knew it two years.

Sebastian had always given Blaine the option of quitting the job; of returning back to school and getting a different degree. But he had already felt borderline useless as it was, and being unemployed would serve to do nothing but make him feel worse. After all, everything that belonged to the two of them really came out of Sebastian's pocket; had the Smythe name stamped on it.

Not that Blaine wasn't grateful. It was just…different. He didn't really picture his life panning out that way.

As he sat at the table and listened to Sebastian and his parents talk about him as if he wasn't even there, he could actually feel the oncoming migraine. He excused himself from the table, ignoring the people asking him to stay and running up to the bathroom, taking an aspirin before returning. He shouldered through the dinner as best as he could, trying his best not to let Santana's sympathetic gaze make him feel sorry for himself.

* * *

Sebastian was really getting on his bad side lately. This was his second transgression; the first being when he shamelessly flirted with the help at their Christmas party earlier that week.

That night, as Blaine got ready for bed he heard their bedroom door opening, and then entered Sebastian. His facial expression best being described as remorseful. Blaine glared at him, trying to be harsh and _stand his ground_ this time, but he had always been a bit of a push-over. He allowed Sebastian to press close to him; to press light kisses along his jaw; to whisper "I'm sorry." over and over and over until he was almost believed.

"I'm upset with you." Blaine said, but his voice sounded more unsure than he felt.

"I know." Sebastian answered. "Just…let's not fight, alright?"

But Blaine didn't want to push this aside like he did all of the other times. He didn't want to forget that he was upset. And it was when Sebastian pressed a kiss to his lips that gave him the power to push him away.

"No. We're going to _talk_ about this." Blaine insisted and Sebastian simply laughed it off, getting closer again and pressing Blaine against the wall.

"I'm not a big fan of talking." Sebastian whispered against his lips, close in a way that was completely distracting.

And Blaine struggled to remember that he was _upset_ and _not in the mood_ and _did not want this._

"Sebastian…" He pleaded, and was not surprised when he was ignored. He was used to people disregarding him.

"Just…let me take care of you." And so Blaine did not protest as he was led from the wall to their bed.

* * *

Kurt swore that the next time someone asked him how his Christmas went he wouldn't even humor them with a response. After the holiday he had—his Aunt Mildred had visited and after hearing he was in show choir insisted that he and Finn sing various show tunes—he was actually glad to be back in school; thankful for the new year even though he knew he would give up on his resolutions by the second week.

As if the universe were trying to tell him something; he had returned to school on a Wednesday. He was sure that was the sign for one of two things: either the universe was telling him that it was okay for him to be _infatuated_ with Blaine, or saying 'haha we'll humor you; you crazy bitch'. Either way he'd take it.

He didn't take too much stock into it; however. The last time Kurt crushed on someone this hard they ended up becoming his step brother.

Plus, this Wednesday was the last one before report cards came out. So maybe the universe was delivering a different message altogether.

Either way he had trouble hiding his skip as he and Mercedes headed to the east wing of the school, and he was fully aware that he was a few moments from seeing Blaine.

"Someone's happy." Mercedes noted.

"Never. You know I'm allergic to happiness."

"Right." She responded in that infuriating voice that stated she knew more than she was letting on.

He didn't even bother to get into it with her, instead walking into Chemistry and greeting Blaine warmly.

"Hi. You can grab your goggles and an apron, Mike already started setting up your table." Blaine responded, dismissing any option for further conversation. Kurt shrugged, figuring he could simply talk to him later.

Kurt actually got the experiment for once, which was a first. He wasn't sure if it was increased interest in the subject, or increased interest in the man teaching the subject but he really didn't want to spend too much time thinking about it.

* * *

After school Kurt packed up and headed back to the Chemistry class, and would never admit to walking at a faster pace than usual. He discovered the class was empty.

"Mr. Anderson?" Kurt called out to the empty room.

"I'll be out in a second!" He heard a muffled voice call from the supply closet. He waited a few moments before Blaine emerged, looking a bit worn for wear. His eyes were clearly red and slightly puffy, and it was with a terrifying certainty that Kurt realized he had been _crying_.

And that was more than weird. Teachers don't cry. They yelled a shit-ton and they sometimes smiled but they never _cried_.

"Hey, Kurt. More freshmen tests today; I'm afraid." Blaine seemed to catch Kurt's look of concern. "Dust allergy." he explained, brushing some remaining dust from his shoulder to emphasize his point.

Kurt didn't believe him for a moment but decided not to question it as he took his usual seat next to Blaine and started to grade the first test. On impulse he began to speak, surprised at his own words. "I know you think I'm just some dumb kid, but I can tell when I'm being lied to."

Blaine paused, looking at Kurt in a way that was almost determined. "I don't think you're just some dumb kid." He said, genuinely. "And it's nothing to worry about. But thank you."

And Kurt knew there was more to it than that but he figured he had already overstepped enough for one afternoon, resigning himself to silence.

Blaine's phone buzzed after a while of silence, and Kurt watched as his teacher frowned down at it, typing out a reply. Then a few moments later it rang. "I'll be just a moment." And he answered it, walking into the supply closet to probably avoid being overheard.

But Kurt had amazing hearing due to his inner gossip whore, and managed to catch a few pieces of conversation.

"I'm with a student right now…I'm busy I can't just lea- Alright. Alright, just calm down. I'm coming home now." And then he walked back into the room and Kurt tried his best to gaze intently at the papers in front of him to avoid suspicion.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to call it a night, Kurt. I'll get these marked another time. Thank you, though." Blaine said.

"Alright." he stacked his papers up, feeling a tad bit upset that their last meeting was getting cut short. It wasn't like Kurt would really need extra credit anymore after grades came out, but he almost thought about failing again on purpose; just to continue this.

So it was with a great shock when Blaine said, "Same time next week?"

"What?" Kurt asked.

"Your Dad didn't tell you? He wants me to start tutoring you. You know, to avoid the same disaster happening next marking period." Blaine said.

"Oh." was all Kurt said, thinking: _Yay for good parenting_. "Maybe you can finally explain to me what the hell an isotope is." He said as he got his bag and headed out of the door.

Blaine chuckled as he followed Kurt out. "Don't worry; I'll make everything clear for you." He said, flicking the lights off and locking the door behind them.


	7. Chapter 7

"When's your birthday?" Blaine asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

"I turned seventeen last Friday." Kurt answered distractedly, typing numbers into a calculator and trying to figure out something. Possibly how many more minutes he would be stuck in the classroom.

Blaine frowned a bit. That was only five days ago. And what's more, Kurt didn't even say anything about it. That Friday had been a completely average day. One would think someone like Kurt would have worn a special outfit that day, or carried around balloons, hell, the least the kid could have done was _smile_.

It was then that he realized that for one reason or another Kurt had his birthday removed from the system.

"It didn't show up on my computer." Blaine said out loud, hoping for some explanation.

"I like to avoid the extra attention." Kurt explained, and that seemed so unusual until he really thought it over.

"What happened?" He asked, because he knew there was always a story behind everything his student did; a reason. Although Kurt seemed eccentric and reliably mad, there was something about him that was more realistic than most people Blaine had met.

He wasn't accustomed to people being so resolute at such a young age.

"Birthday punches." Kurt explained, and Blaine somehow doubted he was talking about the playful kind. It was upon the mention of physical violence that it finally struck Blaine how _small_ Kurt was. His mind became flooded with thoughts of the student; helpless and _hurting_ and he immediately cut off that train of thought. Because it made him feel angry, irrationally so.

"That doesn't happen often, does it?" Blaine asked.

"Of course not. My birthday only comes once a year."

Blaine smiled, shaking his head. He understood by now that Kurt deflected better than anyone he knew. "You know what I meant."

"No." Kurt responded, now filling out the worksheet in front of him with a new-found focus. As if to let Blaine know to stop digging; to quit prodding. He always had a way of shutting Blaine out whenever the teacher began to question things. As if Blaine wouldn't like what he found out.

Or maybe he was simply concentrating on his worksheet. Blaine had a history with blowing things out of proportion.

But as he watched Kurt's interest increase in chemistry, subsequently decreasing in the conversation, Blaine got the feeling that he wasn't overreacting. That he was having one of his rare moments of being highly intuitive as opposed to being oblivious to things even if they were stapled to his forehead.

"You know that's ignorance, right?" Blaine piped up after a while, not feeling happy with the way things were left. "They don't have anything against _you_ , they just-"

"Fear what they don't understand?" Kurt finished. He probably has gotten this speech ten times over and that just because it came out of his mouth didn't mean it would make anything better. "They don't seem too terrified of me."

Blaine agreed. The explanation was indeed bullshit. But it was what he received time and time again in school, and it was the only one available. Because the only alternative was for people to admit to themselves that their children were capable of hate.

And it didn't help that Kurt was the only out gay kid in the school and in their lovely democratic society _majority ruled_. So it was easier to excuse the bullies than to help the victim.

Blaine couldn't even begin to imagine what that would be like. In his high school there had been a GSA; a whole club dedicated to helping people like him find support.

 _Lucky,_ Blaine reminded himself. _I was so lucky_.

He wanted to be there for Kurt the way his friends had been there for him. But he was sure that was crossing some line, and plus, who said Kurt even wanted his help? He definitely wasn't some damsel in distress; Blaine had been on the receiving end of one of his witty comebacks several times.

"Maybe if you tell them it's contagious." Blaine suggested a full ten minutes later and that actually got Kurt to look up at him in confusion for a few moments before remembering what they were talking about and _laughing_. Not bitter or nervous or marred by any imperfections, but just pure unaltered laughter that made Blaine's heart swell with pride because _he_ had done that. And he couldn't help but think that Kurt should laugh more around him, because he practically glowed.

"I haven't heard that one before." Kurt said after a while, shoulders visibly relaxing; tension leaving him in an instant. "I can't _wait_ to get out of this place."

And the way he said it sounded like he wasn't just _running_ ; not like Blaine did. It seemed like Kurt had somewhere very specific in mind to go.

"Ah, come on. These are the best years of your life." Blaine said, sarcasm rampant.

"…Then I am so screwed."

And then the two of them were laughing and _there_ it was again. That feeling in Blaine's chest that he didn't know the words to describe because he sucked at being poetic but it made him feel lighter than before. Like he had nowhere to be; no obligations or worries or much of anything.

It was like a reminder that said stop worrying about the future _._ We're here now. We're here.

And Kurt's hand laid there so open and Blaine wondered what would be the consequences of reaching across and taking it. He wondered if the skin there felt as soft as it looked.

And that's when the moment ended; that's when he came crashing back down from what could only be described as temporary madness. He cleared his throat, picked up the textbook that sat abandoned on his desk, and got back to his explanation of balancing equations.

And just like that Blaine dismissed that train of thought.

* * *

Kurt watched as Quinn walked into the choir room for the first time in weeks. She wore an olive green turtleneck; oversized in a way that served to make her look even more fragile; like knocking into her would result in her fracturing a femur. She stood light on her feet, as if she couldn't quite remember how she got to there, and was ready to leave as soon as she could recall where she needed to be.

It resembled the way restless children stood at places like hospitals or dentist's offices. Because they didn't arrive there of their own accord, but were toted along by someone else.

Somehow the image of strong, stoic Quinn being led along like a small child was more unsettling than it should have been.

"Welcome back, Quinn." Mr. Schuester said with a warm smile. "Now, back to business. I know you guys are excited because you won Sectionals, but I don't want you guys to get too comfortable. Regionals are fast approaching, and I have an assignment to get your creative juices flowing."

Tina and Kurt wore identical expressions of annoyance verging on suicidal.

"I want you guys to pair up and do another duet. Now, we all have a pretty good idea of whose voices have chemistry." As he explained people were already looking to their respective partners. " _But_ in order to challenge yourselves I'd like you to pair up with someone you've never worked with before."

There was a collective groan. Kurt and Mercedes looked at each other with longing before quickly moving on to find someone else.

Kurt began to mentally tally all the people he sung with at some point. Rachel. _Shit._ Finn. _Fuck._

 _I can work with Tina,_ he thought, but watched with weariness as she paired up with Puck. _That horrid bitch_.

 _Maybe Artie and I can-_ but Rachel had already snatched Artie from him. Eventually everyone was paired up but Kurt still didn't have a partner. Were there an odd number of people in the club?

"I think that's everyone." Mr. Schuester declared when all of a sudden Quinn stood up.

"I don't have a partner."

"Me neither." Kurt said.

"Well, that settles it." Their teacher declared. "You two are partners. Now, I'll give you guys a few weeks to come up with something. In the mean-time, I wanted to talk to you guys about-"

But Kurt had already tuned him out, instead opting to start trying to figure out how the hell he was going to get Quinn's soft voice to work with his over-the-top style of performance.

After the meeting was over and everyone was getting ready to go home Kurt felt a light tapping on his shoulder. He turned around to see his new partner.

"We lucked out, didn't we?" she said companionably. "It could have been much worse."

"True." he admitted, shivering at the thought of having to sing with Zises or Puck. "So..."

"I'm available on Mondays through Thursdays after school." She said helpfully. "Does that work for you?"

"Wednesdays I have tutoring." He chose to ignore how she quirked her perfectly shaped eyebrow in curiosity.

They talked a bit more, exchanging numbers and promising to call each other for further planning as soon as possible. Kurt already had a few songs in mind already but he has learned through trial and error that sometimes it's best not to bombard people with his ideas and enthusiasm.

* * *

When Blaine got home he saw Sebastian's car already parked in the driveway. As he walked into the living room he saw exactly what he expected: Sebastian lying out on the couch, still in his work attire except his tie was loosened and his jacket was draped over the back of the couch. The table had empty bottles of liquor strewn across it. Playing on the television screen was a French movie, a favorite from Sebastian's childhood. He always turned to it when he was feeling distressed. Blaine briefly wondered if maybe the nightmares were coming back.

Sebastian didn't seem to hear him arrive; too busy mumbling something in french. Normally Blaine would be amused at the spectacle, but it all it did was confirm his suspicions that the lawyer was absolutely drunk out of his mind.

Not feeling up to dealing with the set of problems that usually came with Sebastian being intoxicated; he grabbed his messenger bag off of the floor and snuck past his boyfriend, heading up the steps to their room and locking the door behind him.

About half an hour later as Blaine sat at his computer, typing a letter to the school board requesting the funds to purchase new lab instruments when he heard the tell-tale creaks of the stairs. It took five minutes before those creaks turned to bangs on the door.

"Blaine?" Sebastian's voice called out to him with a false sense of calm. "Open the door, please."

Blaine had learned time and time again that to do that would be a horrible idea, so he ignored Sebastian, even as the knocks grew more violent and his voice grew harsher with the an irrational drunken rage.

He didn't even flinch as Sebastian rattled the door-handle, seeming desperate to get in.

"Blaine, open the goddamn door." he practically barked out. Which eventually turned into:

"I'm giving you five seconds to open the fucking door." Which led up to the usual:

"You know what you are? You're _ungrateful_. Do you know how much I sacrifice? So you can go to that stupid school and play Einstein every day?"

"Einstein was physics." Blaine called out because he really couldn't resist.

He heard Sebastian laugh behind the door but it wasn't warm or welcoming.

"Aren't you a smartass?" He said menacingly. "Let's see how much you have to say when I break this door down."

 _He doesn't mean it._ Blaine had to remind himself, _He's not himself right now._

"Go for it." Blaine challenged, sounding a lot calmer than he felt.

It went on for fifteen more minutes. A constant banging on the door and more yelling and hurtful words that really meant _nothing_. Because it wasn't Sebastian speaking, but the hateful monster inside of him that was only awoken whenever a drop of alcohol hit his tongue.

It took Blaine three years before he even realized Sebastian had a problem. And by that time he was too in love to even care. Because isn't that what love is? Putting up with each other's flaws?

That's what Blaine told himself as the banging eventually quieted down and stopped altogether, indicating that Sebastian was either tired or bored and had moved on to something else. Or maybe he was being quiet; waiting for Blaine to open the door. There was no way in hell Blaine would fall for that twice, so he stayed put until he heard the tell-tale creak of the stairs.

* * *

"So what did I get on the last quiz?" Kurt asked impatiently, leaning over the desk to get a glimpse of the computer screen where the online grade book was open. "I got a _C_?"

Blaine sighed, looking up at Kurt's less than pleased expression. "Good afternoon to you too."

"How did I get a _C_? I know definitions; we went over those."

Blaine had already put on his reading glasses, pulled open a folder, and flipped through papers until he got to Kurt's. He cleared his throat and began to read out loud from it. "Protons and electrons are basically like Troy and Gabriella from High School Musical. They're different but they always get together in the end." He looked up at Kurt with an unimpressed expression.

Kurt stared back at him blankly. "I don't see the issue."

 _You have got to be kidding me,_ Blaine thought.

"Kurt," he started, lowering his glasses. "This is a _science_ class. _Science_. You're not writing for some pre-teen magazine."

"That was a perfectly decent explanation!" Kurt insisted. "You just hate me."

" _Kurt."_ He repeated, this time in his warning tone. "I'm not changing the grade. Maybe if you use _big boy_ words next time I'll consider giving you an A."

Kurt looked like he was about to say something, but chose to hold his tongue. He simply crossed his arms and practically stormed out of the classroom.

 _I am never having kids,_ Blaine thought, but then all of a sudden Kurt stormed back into the room.

"And for the record," He started, looking Blaine up and down with utter disdain. "Bowties are out of fashion."

Blaine blinked; absolutely shocked. He briefly considered retorting, but then was hit with the image of him and the student sitting in a classroom and trading insults and he couldn't help but laugh.

"What's so funny?" Kurt said, his displeased glare faltering slightly.

"You." Blaine answered and the absolutely indignant look on Kurt's face made him laugh even harder.

Kurt looked genuinely confused as to what to do in this situation, so he simply continued to glare at Blaine until he was done laughing. "I'm glad one of us finds this amusing."

Blaine was still grinning; this kid was absolutely nuts. "I'll let you retake it next Wednesday, okay?"

"Deal." Kurt said, as if he were doing _Blaine_ some sort of favor instead of it being the other way around. "And…I guess the bowties aren't _that_ bad."

Blaine shook his head to himself. "Duly noted. Have a good day, Hummel."

"You too." Kurt said, heading out of the classroom where a blonde girl waited for him.

And it was upon his absence that it dawned on Blaine that he was actually looking forward to Wednesday.


	8. Chapter 8

Kurt knew it was approaching because his favorite stores began to advertise sales. All of a sudden the commercials on the radio all had a _theme_ and nearly every song being played had a central message. If both of his hands hadn't been on the steering wheel he would have changed the radio station for the umpteenth time.

"I'm guessing you're not in a festive mood." Quinn remarked, talking for the first time since she sat in his passenger's seat.

"Valentine's Day is _not_ a holiday." He argued.

"Then what is it?"

"A business scheme conjured up by Hallmark."

He briefly considered just going into isolation for a few days; just until the post-Valentine's day feelings wore off and he could pretend like it never happened. But there were reminders _everywhere_. Even all the movies on HBO had something to do with true love or romance.

Not that Kurt wasn't a fan of romance. Quite the opposite, actually. But the only kind of romance he knew were the ones in musicals, but after that left the stage everything seemed less magical and real. All of a sudden the stage was reality and real life was contrived.

So basically, Valentine's Day was just the largest pot of bullshit to him.

And as he and Quinn drove to the music store he really hoped for her sake that she would not suggest they sing a _love song_ for their assignment. Because that would probably be his breaking point.

"So did you have any songs in mind?" She asked as they pulled up in the parking lot to the store.

"No." He lied. "Did you?"

"Not really." She said, and he was just about to let out a sigh of relief until, "But I think we should sing a ballad."

And pretty much every single song Kurt had in mind went out of the window. But he wanted to be _fair_. He had to work _with_ her, not against her. "Any reason why?"

"Because you're at your best when you sing ballads." Kurt _begged to fucking differ_ but he kept that to himself. "Plus the simpler we go the more time we'll have to focus on our voices as opposed to blocking."

He begrudgingly admitted that she did have a point. They got into the store and decided that it would be best to divide and conquer, splitting up and perusing through different sections of the store.

"Excuse me?"

Kurt continued to look through the songbook, thinking he was imagining the voice.

"Excuse me?" Kurt sighed, looking up and _oh wow okay_.

"I just wanted to say I love that broach." said the guy— _attractive guy,_ Kurt noted—and he was trying to decide whether he was trying to make fun of him or not when he noticed what the guy was wearing and a little _ding_ went off in his head like whenever food was done in the microwave and all he could think was Gay with a capital G.

_What do I say to him? Do I say thank you? Is that what people do?_

"Uh…." _Good going Kurt. You're really a smooth criminal,_ he thought. "I mean…um…thanks."

_Don't even look at him loser; just bury your head in the sheet music,_ Kurt thought, looking down and waiting for the attractive Gay guy to walk away along with all his hopes and dreams. He'd been so out of practice—never _had_ practice, really—that he couldn't even talk to a guy without making an absolute idiot of himself.

"You look familiar." The guy continued and _oh my god you didn't scare him off yet. You tiger._ "Are you…were you...didn't you perform at Sectionals recently? The New Directions, right?"

"Yes, actually." Kurt was now slightly suspicious. "How do you…?"

"Chandler Dystra." He said, extending his hand. "I'm Candace Dystra's brother."

Kurt was apologetically clueless so Chandler elaborated. "She was the fifth runner-up for Ms. Ohio 2006? She also judged Sectionals."

"You're _her_ brother?" Kurt took his hand and shook it. Candace was actually a bit ditsy; Kurt hoped it didn't run in the family.

They talked for a bit more, and Kurt actually managed to have a decent conversation without saying something stupid or referencing Mean Girls. Fifteen minutes into the conversation and he saw Quinn approaching with two song books in hand.

"I have to go." Kurt said regrettably, picking up the book he was looking at. "It was nice talking to you."

"You too." Chandler said, starting to walk away before turning back and laughing nervously. "I know we just met but…can I have your number?"

Kurt dropped the book, and his mouth hung open before his common sense kicked in and he closed it. Someone was asking for _his_ number. He briefly wondered if he was still sleeping in bed, and this was his mind's way of helping him cope with the impending doom that was Valentine's Day.

"Sorry…too straightforward?" Chandler asked, grinning sheepishly.

"I….I mean, not really. No. Um…numbers. That sounds good. Okay." _Jesus do you even know English?_

"Awesome." Chandler said, taking Kurt's proffered phone and putting his number in. "Text me?"

It took until he and Quinn had already been driving for five minutes until it what happened _really_ sunk in. He really couldn't help it when a giddy laugh escaped. He could practically feel Quinn staring at him.

"You're in a better mood." she noted, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

"I got tired of pouting." He said. "Who wants frown lines, right?"

She smiled as if to prove his point. "Right."

* * *

"I am _so lame_. When did I get so lame?" Blaine asked, running a hand through his un-gelled hair in frustration.

"Haven't you been that way since conception?" Santana answered, using her time between takes to find a quiet corner of the set and talk to Blaine about his relationship problems.

Blaine was still trying to come up with creative things to do for Valentine's Day and every single one of his ideas were shot down instantly. Personally, he thought a picnic was completely romantic but Santana thought it was too old school.

"How about an aquarium? Sea life is pretty fascinating. Did you know-"

"I'm gonna have to stop you before you embarrass yourself." She said. "Doesn't Romeo take you to some fancy restaurant every year?"

"Exactly. _Every year_. I need to switch things up. I read somewhere that-"

" _That's_ your problem." she said. "You read too much. I don't read and I have a perfectly fulfilled life."

He had to laugh. It wasn't like everybody could just wake up one morning and move their whole life to New York and become a model and actress like she did. It was practically overnight. One day she said goodbye and the next she was on huge billboards in Manhattan.

"So what should I do?" He asked.

"Stop worrying. Watch some TV. Or porn." He heard some voice yelling cues in the background. "I have to go. This is it. The big break-up scene. Wish me luck."

"Like you need it."

And then she was gone and he was back to square one. It took a good fifteen minutes of sitting their scheming before the idea occurred to him with a resounding _duh_.

'What do you want to do for Valentine's Day?' He hit send and felt immensely proud of his critical thinking skills.

* * *

The only thing worse than being single when Valentine's Day was approaching was being single _and_ constantly sought out for relationship advice, which really didn't make sense the more Kurt thought about it. But if making sense was a qualification for things to exist than his life would be a completely different story.

As he helped Finn pick out his outfit for Thursday; the day his brother and Rachel were going off on some romantic escapade, he briefly considered starting a business for this kind of thing. He could even have his own reality TV show on Bravo. He tucked the idea away in his mind as plan C.

His phone rang so he excused himself—"Make sure you iron that shirt, Finn! You'll look like a prune if you don't."—and answered it.

"Are we still on for our movie night?" He asked.

"About that…" Mercedes started, sounding guilty. "I have a date."

He actually started laughing. "Good one. Now seriously, help me decide between Dreamgirls and Grease. We won't have time to watch both so-"

"I wasn't joking." Mercedes said and Kurt actually had to stop speaking and pacing and _everything_ because this was not happening. "I know it's short notice and I hate to bail on-"

"It's fine." He said, because he didn't think he'd be able to stand it if she started to pity him.

They talked more and she gushed about how Sam asked her out and he laughed and awww'd at all the right places even though with each passing minute he was feeling more and more unwanted.

There was Chandler. And Chandler was nice. But it was just _texting_ and it's not like Chandler knew enough about Kurt to actually like him.

Not that he minded being single. He actually preferred it. But still, it sucked on days like this when he was reminded how single he really was.

He briefly wondered if he would be single forever. If he would be _that_ friend. At weddings and parties sitting in the corner and waiting for their turn. He supposed it wouldn't be _too_ bad. He'd never have to compromise with someone. Or share things.

"Kurt, did you say the red tie or the blue one?" Finn called from his room.

And Kurt rushed to go help him because he rather keep busy than dwell on things that hadn't even happened yet.

* * *

Blaine and Sebastian were going to go _ice-skating_. It was admittedly juvenile; something teenagers did on a first date. But Sebastian was head over heels for the idea. Blaine didn't want to brag, but he was pretty sure he was the smoothest operator in Lima and no one could convince him otherwise.

He just needed to finish grading papers and he would be out of the building.

He was so preoccupied with his plans that he forgot that Kurt was supposed to be stopping by to see him after school until the student stood in the doorway.

"You don't have to be stuck with me today, Kurt." He said as a way of dismissal. He was feeling festive and generous, and he knew that if it were the day before Valentine's Day and he had a say in it the last thing he would want to do was focus on Chemistry.

"Why not? Chemistry's fun…ish." Kurt said and Blaine had to roll his eyes fondly. "Plus, it's not like I have anything better to do."

"No plans?" Blaine asked rather insensitively, and then felt like hitting himself for it.

"No. It's not like I have some dreamy boyfriend from another school. Despite the rumors…that I may or may not have started." Kurt said, but he didn't seem as devastated about it as he should have been.

"Really? I'm shocked." Blaine said, because he really was.

"Which is why…" Kurt started dramatically, before pulling a small stuffed animal from behind his back. "Will you be my Valentine?"

Blaine stared from the downright _adorable_ plush puppy to the downright _adorable_ student that was presenting it to him and he couldn't control the dopey grin that spread across his face. He had gotten several gifts from his students in the past—mostly girls that had misguided crushes on him—but _everything_ was about presentation and when it came to that Kurt definitely had style. He accepted the stuffed animal and set it on his desk right next to his pocket-sized thesaurus.

"On a strictly platonic level, of course." Kurt added as an afterthought. "I wouldn't want your girlfriend to get jealous." He joked.

For some reason Kurt saying that annoyed the hell out of him. Not that Kurt had any reason to assume otherwise, considering Blaine had never corrected him the multiple other times he mentioned it. But there was something about Kurt not knowing the truth that cheapened the moment, and before he could stop himself he was putting things straight.

"Boyfriend."

"What?"

"You hope my _boyfriend_ doesn't get jealous."

They looked at each other in a charged silence; and Kurt's face slowly turned from shocked to accepting as he processed the information. "Oh." Then under his breath: "Fucking Rachel."

" _Language._ " Blaine said half-heartedly but he was too busy laughing to be stern and Kurt was insisting that he said _freaking_ and that Blaine needed to get his hearing checked.

Blaine gave Kurt his remake quiz, and Kurt took his place at a student desk and started to work on it. As he began to grade projects for his freshmen class his mind began to wander at what the hell he was going to wear to go ice-skating until he heard Kurt speaking.

"Is that who Seb is?"

Blaine nearly choked on nothing; absolutely startled that one of his students knew that name. "How…"

"You talk to him on the phone a lot." Kurt neglected to mention that most of the time when they talked they were arguing, but quietly in the way that Kurt wasn't supposed to hear.

Blaine read the look on Kurt's face. "Yeah…he's difficult sometimes." He laughed nervously.

Kurt knew that laugh. It was the laugh all adults mastered down to a T; it was the "don't worry" laugh; it was the "I'm fine" laugh. It was the laugh that surfaced only when people weren't telling the complete truth.

And Blaine really did feel bad. He knew Kurt could tell he was lying, and over the past few weeks had grown to think of Kurt as at least a friend. And even though it was inappropriate; completely unprofessional, he had grown comfortable around Kurt and thought him responsible enough to handle being told the truth. "We're just going through a rough patch. He's hard to talk to, sometimes."

And it felt so good to be _honest_ for once; to have someone to talk to. He couldn't even tell Santana about everything. Her life was perfect, and his wasn't. He didn't need her knowing that.

"You have me." Kurt said as if reading Blaine's mind, but he said it in a tone that implied he was joking. Because the idea of teacher confiding in student? It really can't be taken seriously, can it?

So Blaine laughed, because that's what you do when someone tells a joke. "Thanks, but I can't exactly go home to you. I only have you on Wednesday afternoons."

Kurt huffed indignantly in a way that was comical, returning to the work in front of him. And Blaine didn't want to offend him, so he added. "Not that I'd mind it. But I can't see you being single in five years."

And Kurt thought Chandler had helped him get over his stupid crush but he couldn't deny that Blaine's statement stung a little. And that it had no right to. Because things shouldn't hurt if they don't matter.

"True. Your loss." Kurt said, trying to sound indifferent but his voice cracked.

And it's not like Blaine didn't notice. But the teacher simply thought he imagined it. The rest of that afternoon their conversation was strictly limited to chemistry, and they both had to pretend as if he didn't mind.

* * *

Kurt had devoured his third piece of cheesecake and by that time the cake was a quarter done so he might as well just have the rest of it.

_Go hard or go home,_ he thought as he took a bite of another slice and wondered on a scale of one to loser how much he was going to hate himself in the morning. On his television screen was a re-run of some corny scary movie that he had caught somewhere in the middle, but the idea of people getting chopped up and being unhappy just seemed really nice.

_At least I'm not that guy,_ Kurt thought as some dude got chased through the trees by some weird inbred monster.

"Bud?" He heard his dad rapt softly on the door. "Carole and I are heading out now. Call me if you need anything, don't answer the doors, and remember…we love you."

_Oh my god,_ was all Kurt thought, too embarrassed to even form a coherent thought. Even his _Dad_ had somewhere to be on Valentine's Day, leaving him alone in the whole freaking universe. But of course, that was okay. Because they _loved_ him.

"Have fun. And don't do anything I wouldn't do." Kurt responded, to which his father laughed at before heading down the stairs to what was sure to be a night more adventurous than Kurt's.

He sat in his room until the movie ended, and despite the terrible effects and subpar storyline it did succeed at scaring the crap out of him.

So now he was scared and home alone, which combined with his already overactive imagination made for a very miserable time. He kept thinking if maybe he stayed under the covers then no one could hurt him but then he needed to _pee_ and it was a choice between his life or pissing his bed. He seriously considered the latter but then decided that even if he did survive the night being a seventeen year old bed-wetter who was single on Valentine's Day would be the final push he needed to kill himself.

Kurt counted to three and ran to the bathroom across the hall, not even looking over his shoulders because every single motherfucker who did that in every single scary movie ended up tripping on something and _dying_.

_Not today_ , he thought when he made it to the bathroom and locked the doors behind him.

And it wasn't until he was washing his hands that he realized how stupid he was being and he had to look at his pathetic reflection in the mirror and just _laugh_. And then he seemed totally nuts by that point so with nothing to lose he figured he might as well get all the crying out now so he didn't bother anyone with it when they got home.

And it went on like that for some while, because at first Kurt was crying just because he _could_ but then his mind started flooding with every single unfair situation in his life and all of a sudden it was no longer about being alone on Valentine's Day, but it was about just being alone. In every single possible way. And the thought of it consumed him; the thought of everyone leaving him because he wasn't good enough. And maybe he was delirious but in that dark hour of the night that thought seemed alarmingly real.

He looked at himself in the mirror; his eyes all red and puffy and his face streaked with tears and all he could think was:

God, _stop feeling sorry for yourself._

And so he washed his face and went to sleep and figured he'd just wake up and pretend that whole ordeal never happened.

* * *

Blaine's Valentine's Day was so sweet it was unsettling. And charming. And just downright movie worthy. As the two stumbled to Sebastian's car; drunk off of nothing but simple joy Blaine couldn't help but think that maybe this was it. Maybe this was the moment their relationship would get back on track. They'd go back to the beginning when they were two bright eyed teenagers who despite their terrible environments had stupidly optimist goals for the future.

"You're a show-off." Sebastian said as Blaine leaned against the car.

"Me? Never." Blaine insisted, although he had to admit his high school summer job of working at an ice rink definitely helped to develop his skills. And he may have threw in a few turns just for the sake of demonstrating those few skills.

Sebastian regarded him for a moment, face warm and open in a way that was so rare that Blaine thought that _this was it_ and he was going to say _I love you_.

But he laughed instead, mumbled, "It's getting late. We should get going."

And then the moment was over and they were driving home and Blaine kept wishing he wasn't so childish to let little things like that bother him.

Blaine was a hopeless romantic, of course, so _knowing_ Sebastian loved him wasn't enough. He would just like to hear it for once; three little words that held a comfort and security and hope and promise.

It seemed a whole world was contained between the I-love-you's exchanged amongst two people. It was a surrender; an "I give up because I love you so much that it cannot be expressed so I have to settle for the inadequate way of communication known as the English language."

And Blaine's final thought was that Santana was right, and maybe he really _did_ need to stop reading so much because it led to painful thinking.

"I love you." Blaine said, and tried to convince himself that he was content with the exchange being one-sided.

That night had been a peculiar one. After Blaine had finally drifted off to sleep at Sebastian's side he embarked on a night of dreaming, exploring his mind in ways that he'd hardly recall in the morning.

He did remember the sex dream, though, possibly because they just weren't as frequent as they used to be during his adolescence. So whenever he rarely encountered one, it had a tendency to stick with him for a few days.

And this one was…peculiar. At first it was all sensation. Lips and hands and the tickle of nails lightly scraping down his back. He felt as if he were floating, floating, and the room was so bright, so very very bright.

And then he realized what he was really looking at weren't walls, but rather pale skin. And what was blurry became defined, like he was putting on his glasses after wandering around blindly. He made out individual features at first, brown hair, a defined nose, kiss-swollen lips.

It wasn't until hazel eyes met blue ones, so wide, so curious like that of a child's that he knew who was the subject of his dream.

Blaine woke up abruptly, sitting up in bed and practically panting. Sebastian didn't even stir next to him. He rubbed a hand over his face and got out of bed, heading over to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face.

He desperately hoped if he went right back to bed he'd forget the dream by morning.


	9. Chapter 9

"Do you ever sit down and wonder when everything started to go wrong?" Blaine asked Emma, who was busy scrubbing away at a grape. He had seen her eat her lunch that way time and time again but it never ceased to amaze him. He always thought about asking her the story behind that but thought it rude to do so.

"All the time." She answered before popping the grape into her mouth, then starting to scrub away at the next one. "Why? Is there something you wanted to talk about?"

Blaine stared down at his lunch, which was completely untouched. He hadn't been able to really stomach anything for the past twenty-four hours, too consumed with guilt among other things. The school was still in the euphoric haze that was usually the aftermath of Valentine's Day and it was absolutely horrific.

Somehow he couldn't meet Emma's gaze; her unusually huge eyes looking at him with concern.

"Do you ever feel like you made the wrong choice?" Blaine finally gathered up the courage to ask.

That was vague enough, and as specific as he was willing to go on the topic. Blaine sometimes felt his life was a compilation of wrong turns and if it kept piling up one day he'd end up driving straight off a cliff.

But on a technical level, he did not make a wrong choice. Not yet. But he felt the urge to do so and that was probably more frightening than just making a rash decision. Because it is slow and conniving and would continue to creep up on him until he was in a position where making any other choice is not a viable option.

And honestly none of that would make any fucking sense to Emma so he decided to give her the edited version.

"Oh, constantly!" She leaned forward, as if to tell a secret. "Like one time, I accidently touched the handle to the door for a public restroom. God, I nearly had a heart attack."

"Wild." Blaine agreed through a tight-lipped smile.

"Is something wrong?"

He quickly shook his head. "No, no. Everything's fine."

They ate lunch together and continued to chat about trivial things but there was always the nagging voice at the back of Blaine's head and he could not get it to shut up for the life of him.

* * *

Kurt had recovered more or less from the self-induced trauma that was Valentine's Day. He knew he would have to abstain from night time bathroom trips for about a week. No more chai tea before bed.

Honestly, if anything he was glad he had gotten his mini-break down over with. It was super embarrassing, and if he had done that in front of any of the jocks, especially Karofsky, it would simply make him a target. Well, more so than usual.

But no more weakness. No more crying. He would face his fears head on. Which is why he looked Karofsky right in the eye as he passed the gorilla in the hallway, knowing that there were too many teachers around for anything bad to happen to him.

Yet something weird happened. Instead of standing his ground and glaring back in an equally menacing fashion Karofsky was extremely quick to look away. Of course Kurt didn't dwell on it for more than a moment because he had more important things to deal with than the nuances of his bully's life.

"Weird." Mercedes noted next to him.

"Yeah…weird."

And that was the end of that.

* * *

"It's like, if given the option between clawing my own eyes out and sitting through another thirty minute long documentary about _the evolution of quantum mechanics_ -" Kurt said to Brett—formally known as Stoner Brett— before Blaine actually entered the room.

"Hey, guys. Sorry for being late. So, how did you guys like yesterday's film? Interesting stuff, right?" his teacher asked, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

 _You are a grown man,_ Kurt thought critically of his childish mannerisms.

There was a mixture of responses to Blaine's question, and of course Kurt swore to the heavens that it was the most captivating film he'd ever seen.

"Dude, I thought you hated it." Stoner Brett whispered loudly and Kurt shot him a look that read: _I trusted you._

Undeterred, the drug-user continued, "You said you'd like, claw your eyes out or something."

Kurt was not religious, but he really almost called on the savior Jesus Christ himself to save him from doing something to Brett that would get him suspended, possibly sent to jail.

Blaine laughed a bit at that because that was _so Kurt_. "It's alright. I understand that learning it's not everyone's preferred topic." Laughter throughout the class as Blaine picked up a pile of papers on his desk. "Which is why I took it upon myself to give you guys a pop quiz on it."

Kurt could practically hear the whole class telepathically planning a mass suicide as Blaine handed out the quiz papers. He was getting a crappy grade as it is, and it was mostly due to stunts like this.

Kurt had never given less of a shit about anything in his life and that was saying something because he sat through the Super Bowl that one time with his father. But when it came to answering the questions he tried his best, which quite frankly wasn't very good at all.

He was so focused on the test that he didn't notice the way Blaine looked up at him periodically before looking back down and clearing his throat.

* * *

Now Blaine had done a lot of horrible shit in the past, but it was this new development that made him certain he just reserved a seat in one of the hottest infernos of hell. Just when he was certain that he couldn't get any worse he always did something outstanding to top himself. But this time actually took the cake; fuck, it took the whole dessert platter.

And cryptic advise from Miss Pillsbury—"Have you tried expressing your feelings through song?"—really wasn't going to cut it anymore. He knew for a fact that she got her degree online, anyway.

He needed someone to be stringent with him; to be honest. He didn't need to be coddled, but to be told the honest severity of the situation at hand.

He needed Santana Lopez.

Not that he had any other friends but yeah.

He got home and set his bag down. Sebastian was working overtime and wouldn't be home until a few hours later. He figured it would be nice to straighten up the kitchen. And the living room. And the dining room. And pretty much every single room in the house until it was six o' clock and Sebastian still wasn't home.

So there was no way of avoiding it. He could clean the whole neighborhood and he'd still have to make that call. So he did.

"Hit me, Hobbit." Santana said as way of greeting.

He took a deep breath, thinking of the most delicate way he could explain his situation. She was one of the most judgmental people he knew, and one wrong word could have her calling him derogatory names for weeks.

"Do you ever have thoughts about people you shouldn't?"

There. He said it. And now it was real and it wasn't just in his head. Well, it _was_ just in his head. And maybe that was half of the problem.

"I'm flattered but I'm taken." Santana said and normally he would find that weirdly amusing but this time it was nothing short of anxiety-inducing. She read into his silence.

"It's that bad, huh? So, define _thoughts_."

He sighed. "You know exactly what I mean." She liked to play mental games with people sometimes; people meaning Blaine. For some reason she treated all of his problems like they were trivial, and this was one of the rare cases where he wished she was right.

"Let me guess…it was that Sam guy wasn't it?"

"Worse."

"The pool-boy from last summer."

He wrinkled his nose at that. "Gross."

"Just tell me." She said in a way that was almost sincere. He took a deep breath that still went by way too quickly. He exhaled.

Did he really want to admit this? Wasn't this the kind of stuff that ended up on Dr. Phil specials? But wouldn't it be worse to keep it to himself; to let it fester like a wound until the infection spread and he found himself doing something really rash and stupid?

"It was…about a student."

Silence. Unbearable, choking silence.

Honestly, he couldn't really pinpoint the exact moment it began. Maybe it was the Wednesday before Valentine's Day. That _stupid comment_ he made.

_"Thanks, but I can't exactly go home to you. I only have you on Wednesday afternoons."_

Even referring to the possibility, whether he was joking or not, had been a mistake.

"Well, it could be worse." Santana said, breaking the silence. And he had released the breath he had no clue he was even holding. She seemed oddly calm about the whole thing; like it wasn't cause to call the National Guard.

"How?" He asked because _can it really be worse?_

"You could be teaching kindergarten."

Santana cackled as Blaine admonished her. " _San_!"

* * *

Kurt's bag was so heavy that he was sure if not monitored it would drag him down to the deepest pits of hell. When he finally made it to his car in the parking lot, he tossed the forsaken bag in the back seat and started preparing to drive home; when all of a sudden he saw a familiar form approaching through his rear-view mirror. It was the Mohawk that gave it away.

"What do you want, Noah?" Kurt drawled when Puck finally made it to his car window.

"Can you drop me off at the liquor store?"

Kurt looked at him with narrowed eyes for a total of three seconds before shrugging. "Get in."

And then they were driving.

"How'd Valentine's Day go with Lauren?" Kurt found himself asking before he could help himself. He was certain that a small part of him was a major masochist.

" _Very well_." Puck answered with an extremely cheesy wink that made Kurt mutter _oh my god_ under his breath. He knew that the jock was probably exaggerating, and the extent of physical contact between him and Zises was probably her hand slapping the jock's hand away.

But still, he sometimes wished he had someone who he could lie about sleeping with. Which is a very dumb and specific thing to want, he realized. But it's not like it was under his control.

He supposed there was Chandler. But no one even knew about Chandler yet, and the extent of their communication since they met was simply texting.

"You're just jealous." Puck replied when he saw Kurt's skepticism and _wow he really hit the nail on the head, didn't he? And god, it turns out the only thing more painful than jealousy is being caught in it._

"Oh, yeah. I'm jealous of your fictional rendezvous." Kurt answered bitingly.

"Whoa, dude, I didn't mean to like, offend you, or whatever." Puck said hastily, probably because the last time he made Kurt angry resulted in the silent-treatment for three weeks, two days, twenty-one hours, and seven minutes.

"You didn't _offend_ me." Kurt lied, turning the corner so he was on the street that had the closest liquor store.

"I did. And I'm sorry. I mean, if it would make you feel better, we could-"

"I'm alright, but thanks."

"Okay. But like if you're ever-"

"As much as I appreciate the offer-"

"I mean, it wouldn't _really_ be gay-"

" _No thank you, Noah_." Kurt said with finality before pulling up to the liquor store and watching as the infamous Noah Puckerman—slightly homosexual tendencies and all—entered the store and purchased various booze with his fake I.D.

And he was stuck waiting outside, wondering when the hell his life took the turn from being slightly pathetic to one big walking embarrassment.

* * *

Blaine and Sebastian were engaged in their weekly work-out; the two of them running on neighboring treadmills.

"Personally, I think Romney has some good policies." Sebastian said, turning up the setting on his treadmill a bit and looking unfairly flawless while Blaine was sure he looked as if he ran a marathon. Or as if a marathon was run on him.

"But he's a homophobic, sexist jerk." Blaine argued, tossing Sebastian and incredulous look.

"Who happens to have some great policies." Sebastian insisted, which earned him an eye-roll.

"If you vote for him I'm never speaking to you again." Blaine said, only half-joking.

Sebastian mimicked him, using a whiny voice to portray Blaine's quality of speech, which caused Blaine to take the towel resting on his shoulders and throw it at him.

Sebastian grimaced when the towel hit him; loudly blanching at how moist it was. "You're disgusting."

"Your political affiliations are disgusting."

And Blaine valued moments like this. Where he and Sebastian simply hung out, like old times. Back when things weren't so complicated. And did they _need_ to be? Couldn't it just stay simple all the time?

Sebastian turned up his setting even higher, to which Blaine said, "You're not possibly human." But it came out sounding like a lot of heavy breathing with the occasional vowel sound.

"Hm? What was that? Are you tired? Do you need a _break_?" Sebastian said.

"No." Blaine said defensively, to which Sebastian laughed. Ever since high school when they both played for the same lacrosse team; they liked to challenge each other. No matter what it was; whether it was running laps at practice or seeing who would score the winning point; there was always a competitive edge to their relationship.

"The hour's almost up anyway. And then you're free to go jerk off to pictures of the periodic table or whatever it is you do for fun."

"You're so disgusting."

Sebastian simply smirked in response and that's when Blaine was reminded that his boyfriend was the type of person to consider that a compliment.

Somehow in the comfort of their banter Blaine had forgotten all about his concerns of earlier that day. His conversation with Santana had helped too. She assured him that the brain was a fucked up place, and sometimes it conjured up random things that don't mean much of anything. He figured he'd take her word for it; because the alternative of his thoughts _meaning something_ was a possibility he did not want to dwell on.

So when Wednesday finally came around and Kurt Hummel entered his classroom after school for their usual obligations Blaine had managed to convince himself that it was _just that_. An obligation. And that's all it would ever be.

No matter how much Blaine delighted in the way Kurt often bit his lip in concentration, or admired the way his face flushed whenever he was slightly flustered; it would not progress beyond that. A delight. An admiration.

Because at the end of the day Kurt Hummel was one of nearly two-hundred students that he taught on a daily basis. He was a number. He was a GPA entered into a system.

No matter how real and wonderful he appeared to be when he was merely a foot away.

And that's what Blaine kept telling himself whenever he found his eyes were lingering for too long or his thoughts dwelling on things that it shouldn't.

At the end of the day, any time spent with Kurt was simply a part of his job.


	10. Chapter 10

The heating system was broken at McKinley. Not only was every stair-well reduced to an icy death trap, but students were sporting thick winter jackets, gloves, and for the fashionably inept: ear muffs.

"If I see one more girl wearing uggs with shorts I'll light myself on fire." Kurt mumbled as his frozen fingers stumbled with his locker combination.

"And I'll use you as a heat source." Tina said, leaning against the locker next to his

"Anything to help the cause." Kurt agreed, as he struggled with his lock. After a good thirty seconds with no success he figured the only other option was cursing loudly and kicking the locker until he intimidated it into opening.

"Language, Mister Hummel." said a certain Blaine Anderson with a teasing grin as he walked past headed to god knows where. Didn't he have some class to teach as opposed to walking through the halls like an invalid? But Kurt found it in his heart to forgive him considering the coat he was sporting was particularly flattering to his form.

Of course, he didn't even need to turn around to know that Tina's stupid face was probably splitting in half due to her mocking grin. The incessant teasing, which had died down somewhat, still resurfaced every now and then and it was still just as unbearable.

" _Language, Mister Hummel._ " Tina mimicked in a deep voice; naturally causing Kurt to stop paying attention to his locker long enough to glare at her.

"You are out of control." Kurt said, shaking his head. "I'll have you know that he has a girl friend."

He had no clue why he felt the need to lie. Lying would imply that he was covering up something. And that there was definitely a _something_ that needed to be covered up.

Which there wasn't. Not even slightly. And there never _ever_ could be.

"Really?" Tina asked; one eyebrow raised in slight skepticism.

"I saw them at the mall during break." Kurt said and watched as Tina's features quickly moved from reluctant to accepting. And _wow_ it was really easy to lie, wasn't it? Just say things and people will simply take your word for it.

"Bummer. I already came up with your couple name." Tina said with a mock-pout.

"And what would that be?"

"Anderhummel." She informed him.

He snorted. "Don't quit your day job."

* * *

"Okay, but on a scale of one to ten, how cute is he?" Kurt asked Blaine as he perused the picture frames on the teacher's desk in an attempt to find a photograph that might have the mysterious 'Seb' in it.

Blaine gave him a slight warning glare but didn't respond, turning back around to continue looking in the cabinet in the back of the room and take inventory. He was aware that many students had a habit of "accidentally" taking supplies from his classroom, and liked to check every now and again.

Honestly, he supposed this whole scenario was his fault to begin with, considering he was the one to bring up the whole topic of Valentine's Day to the student, which resulted in a ten minute story about scary movies and cheesecake that only made a small amount of sense which led to how _his_ Valentine's Day went which led to the questioning on Sebastian's attractiveness.

If this were World War One then Blaine was the soldier who shot the Archduke.

"Ten? Nine? Stop me when I'm close." Kurt said, persisting on the topic.

Blaine didn't even dignify him with an answer, instead silently counting the supplies with his numb fingers and hoping the frost bite wouldn't progress to the point of needing amputation.

"Four? Three?" Kurt continued to count down in subtle horror. "…you're joking. Two?"

"I'm not going to have this conversation with you." Blaine said sternly as he moved from counting the flasks to the petri dishes.

"Is it filed under 'things we can't talk about because it's highly inappropriate subject matter'?" Kurt asked, seemingly serious but his voice carrying mocking undertones that Blaine had learned to pick up on after their third session.

"No, it's filed under 'None of your business and if you don't finish those practices problems it's for homework.'" He kindly corrected.

"All you had to do was say he was ugly." Kurt said; voice riddled with a smugness that actually got under Blaine's skin.

He turned around from the cabinet, prepared to counter with something _incredibly clever_ –he was sure of it—when he heard the door open and someone else entered the room.

Blaine felt as if he were almost caught in the act; which was odd because there was no act to be caught in. Nevertheless, he turned his attention back to the cabinets and only half listened as the blonde girl talked to Kurt for a few moments.

"Can we discuss this later, Quinn?" Kurt said, and that's when it all clicked.

_Quinn. Quinn Fabray._ Although teachers weren't supposed to gossip; he heard many stories in the teacher's lounge about Quinn Fabray. And her fall from grace.

And she was friends with Kurt. Huh. You learn something new every day.

"Yeah. Okay." Quinn said after a while, although there was so much more waiting just behind her lips; fighting to be said, but something else was holding her back. "Sorry for the interruption." She added, flashing a brilliant smile at Blaine that made any form of irritation fade.

"No problem. Have a nice day." Blaine said to her as she headed out of the door, actually feeling the energy in the room shift. "Ten, by the way." He said to Kurt.

"What?" The student asked in mild confusion.

"My boyfriend. He's a ten." Blaine clarified which earned him a laugh that should have been _outlawed_.

* * *

The future seemed so brilliant from far away. But the closer it got the scarier it became. Slowly but surely, it would rear its ugly head; prove that all that glittered was not gold.

It was one thing to be a freshman in high school dreaming of notoriety and fame and fortune. It was another thing to be a quarter through junior year and to still be wishing for those things without having done anything to achieve it.

And that was Kurt Hummel's dilemma.

He personally subscribed to the belief that everything would "work itself out" and "what's meant to be will happen". And a small, immature side of him sort of figured that the universe owed him. He'd put up with so much for too long and there had to be some sort of payoff, right?

That's what got him through the hard days. He'd never forget that one time in chemistry class; Blaine had said something that actually resonated with him. For once.

"For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction."

And that was honestly the most glorious thought to him. The fact that every not-so-wonderful thing that happened to him would result in something that was worth it.

Being with Blaine helped to subdue all of the speculation, though. The constantly rushing future didn't come to a complete halt, but it slowed down.

But maybe that had nothing to do with the teacher. Maybe it was the fact that Chemistry was just one of those ridiculously boring, tedious things that made time slow down to prolong the torture.

Either way, it wasn't completely horrible. And Blaine wasn't completely horrible. And for a few hours in his day things were just _there_. Not "mildly tolerable" or "completely horrific" but they just were.

Which is why it caught Kurt completely by surprise when Blaine posed the question, "What do plan on doing after high school?"

Kurt's writing hand stopped its motion. "I was thinking of being a chemist."

Blaine's mouth turned upward in the tiniest of smiles. "Have you always been a smart ass or is that a learned trait?"

"It's crafted over time." Kurt informed him. He handed him the worksheet he had been bull shitting for the past fifteen minutes.

"Noted." Blaine took the worksheet out of the student's hand. "No, but seriously, no life goals? Aspirations?"

"I feel like I'm filling out a questionnaire for eHarmony." Kurt joked.

"You're deflecting."

"I'm devoting my whole life to doing good work for the theater." Kurt said in a self-mockery.

"Not if you don't pass this class." Blaine mumbled as he looked over Kurt's work, before gesturing to a specific spot on the worksheet. "What is that?"

"It's a diagram." Kurt said as if it were obvious. "See? That's solution A. Over there is its solvent. And that's the solute."

"I'm almost positive I'm staring at a picture of a cat."

Kurt sighed exasperatedly, in a way that made Blaine aware he knew _exactly_ what he was doing. "Must you take everything so literally? It's a metaphor."

And really, Blaine wanted to get upset, he wanted to put his foot down and lay down the law but how could he do that when Kurt looked so confident in a way that should have been _infuriating—_ which it was—but instead came off as ridiculously adorable?

"Can you be clearer next time? This won't cut it on standardized tests." Blaine settled on saying, letting Kurt off easy when a small part of him knew that if it had been _any other student_ he wouldn't have put up with the lack of regard to the subject.

As Kurt took the paper and fixed his error, he talked to Blaine. "So…what's _your_ life goal?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "I'm not exactly in high school."

"I wasn't aware dreaming had an age limit." Kurt said, and it annoyed Blaine to no end that the student said things like that without even dwelling on it; always had something disgustingly brilliant coming from that mouth and nine times out of ten it was just an accident.

"Well, I've always liked chemistry." Blaine admitted.

"Lies."

He laughed. "No, seriously. Teaching here wasn't my exactly my ideal, of course. I was going to be a professor at NYU."

"Fancy." Kurt noted. "So, why are you here?"

"I was already teaching a few preliminary courses to freshman, and my chem proffessor at the time was retiring. And, not to brag, but I had the highest average in his class. So of course he put in a good word for me and the job was practically mine…" Blaine's whole disposition seemed to change when talking about it; his eyes lit up in a way that Kurt had never really seen before. "But um, something came up." And then the light was gone.

"You shouldn't let people get in the way of your goals." Kurt mumbled half-listening and half-drawing on the worksheet. And it left Blaine wondering how the hell Kurt knew he was talking about a person.

"You wouldn't really understand." Blaine said dismissively.

This was one of the rare moments that reminded him that he and Kurt were at completely different stages of life. His student was at the point where he still had time to figure out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, and then change his mind at least five times and still turn out okay. Hindsight taught Blaine that at the tender age of seventeen nothing was set in stone, things were still changing and the brain wasn't even done fully _forming_. There was plenty of room for error. And Blaine saw how stressed out Kurt got sometimes, wanted to tell him the truth of it all, but he knew there was no way the student would even believe him.

Meanwhile, Blaine was at the point where all of his old friends were becoming dads and he had to consider opening up a savings account for his retirement funds.

And that thought depressed the living hell out of him so he stopped thinking about it.

"You're right, I wouldn't." Kurt piped up as he added fins to his detailed drawing of a dolphin. "If anyone got in the way of me being on Broadway I'd tell them not to let the door hit them on the way out."

And Blaine simply rolled his eyes fondly, wishing he could borrow Kurt's brain so things could be as simple as the teenager made them out to be.

* * *

When Blaine got home he was surprised to see that Sebastian's car was already in the drive way. He figured that was odd; his boyfriend had done nothing to notify him that he was leaving early from work. He tried to shake off his worries; figuring there must have been a good reason.

He cautiously opened the door and saw Sebastian's form sitting in front of a television; some black and white film playing on mute. He was so still that Blaine almost thought he might have fallen asleep. There was only one wine glass out; but Blaine knew that it must have been refilled multiple times.

And honestly, what disgusted him the most was the way his pulse quickened as if he were _afraid_.

Maybe he was.

But he didn't really want to think like that because how _silly_ would it be if he feared _Seb_ of all people? Yet he still cautiously stepped past him in an attempt to keep quiet; not out of fear—of course not— but out of _courtesy_.

"Where were you?"

Blaine's blood ran cold at the sudden question. Or accusation.

"I said, _where were you_?" Sebastian repeated.

"I heard you the first time." Blaine snapped. "I was tutoring." He continued walking toward the steps to avoid further conversation.

"Don't lie to me." Sebastian said quietly, before standing up and for some reason Blaine's fight or flight instincts stopped working altogether; some element in Sebastian's voice serving to silence his.

But Blaine was an adult and had a right to go where he pleased without having to explain himself. And he knew that. But something about the way Sebastian was looking at him reducing him to nothing but a scared kid who got caught sneaking out by dad.

"Now, I'm going to ask you one more time." Sebastian stepped forward. Blaine stepped back; the railing of the stairway poking painfully into his side. "Where were you?"

"At the school." Blaine said, voice cracking in a way that he would have found pitiful if he had time to notice.

"Am I not enough for you anymore?" Sebastian asked desperately. "Is that why you're cheating on me?"

Blaine knew he was completely impossible to deal with when he got like this. But this all stemmed from an insecurity; from a sadness. It wasn't like he meant anything of what he said.

"I'm not. I was-"

" _At the school_." Sebastian patronized. He stepped closer. Blaine tried to step back but there was nowhere else to go. "Do you know how much I sacrifice for you? For _us_? _And this is how you repay me_?!"

Blaine flinched at the sudden yelling; Sebastian's breath absolutely reeked of alcohol. He tried not to panic; to calm his heart which would not stop pounding in his chest.

"You're right. I should be more grateful." He said, voice shaking a bit.

Sebastian glared at him for a moment, surprised at the change of tact. "Hm…I suppose I can find it in my heart to forgive you." And then he kissed him, breath reeking of alcohol.

Blaine kissed back at first, gradually backing away until he was at the stairs. Then he booked it to his room and locked the door behind him, the procedure becoming routine.

And after he was done having his minor panic attack he took a few folders out of his bag and started to grade some papers he hadn't gotten to.

One particularly expressional paper had a quote at the end of it; which said:

_Please do not understand me too quickly.-Andre Gide_

Blaine smiled at the quote that had nothing to do with the topic, and wasn't shocked in the slightest when he looked on the back to find Kurt's name neatly printed on the bottom. And it was in that moment that he wondered if it were possible to fall in love with a person's beautiful mind.


	11. Chapter 11

Now, one would think that by now Kurt would learn that it would probably be a pretty bad idea to wear his favorite Armani shirt to school where it was susceptible to danger in the form of blue dye number three.

But it was a _sacrifice_ ; Kurt assured himself, a _sacrifice_ in the name of fashion. He'd be recalling his hardships in interviews one day, and they'd all laugh at how much his life sucked. Then they'd go to some fancy after party and he'd accidentally touch Dolly Parton's left boob and they'd serve caviar that he'd only pretend to eat because fish eggs sounded pretty god damn gross.

That's what he did it for. To earn the privilege to pretend to eat fancy foods at fancy parties and have an inappropriate run in with a celebrity.

He strolled through the empty hallway with no sense of urgency. He knew he'd be late to class but he had to get cleaned up. It was when he arrived at his locker to retrieve a spare shirt that he heard before he saw the group of letterman clad jocks stampede down the hallway. Karofsky walked over first; flanked by Azimio and some Asian kid with a buzz cut that Kurt had never quite caught the name of.

"Can I help you?" Kurt asked, barely paying them any attention as he entered in his locker combination.

"We're just here to survey our handy-work." Karofsky said, eyes scanning Kurt's form in a way that was slightly unnerving. Azimio and Buzzcut seemed to be oblivious to it, however, simply getting a kick out of picking on a loser.

Kurt didn't even dignify any of them with any sort of response, opening his locker to retrieve his shirt; which he found balled up and thrown inside. It was only when he took it out and held it up in the fluorescent hallway light that he saw exactly what was done. And he responded in a totally unexpected way.

He started laughing.

"Hey, what's so funny, ladypants?" Karofsky challenged indignantly, which made Kurt laugh even louder.

"Please, enlighten me," Kurt started, holding up his defaced shirt that was clearly spray-painted by the group of athletes, "why does my shirt say 'fap'?"

The two other jocks turned to Buzzcut with accusatory glares.

"Man, it was three letters." Azimio said, shaking his head.

"You had _one_ job." Karofsky continued.

Kurt watched as the three fought over their failed attempt at defacing Kurt's property, taking that as his cue to walk away. He made it about a foot before a strong hand gripped the collar of his shirt and dragged him backward, nearly choking him.

"Not so fast, Gay lord." Karofsky said.

"You get wittier and wittier, don't you?" Kurt quipped, smug expression on his face.

"I'm gonna give you five seconds to wipe that stupid grin off your _stupid_ face." Karofsky threatened; face inches away from Kurt in a way that would have been intimate in different circumstances. "One…two…three…"

Now Kurt's survival instincts should have kicked in at that moment and every synapse in his brain should have been screaming at him to _stop smiling_ but his pride seemed to override all of that. Sure, he couldn't overpower three jocks; there was no way he could challenge even one of them. But it was the thought of a minor victory; something as simple as refusing to obey that gave him the strength to keep going.

"…four…five." Karofsky finished counting.

"Wow, I didn't know you could count all the way up to.." Kurt started, but was cut off swiftly when the air literally left his lungs as he was shoved harshly into the locker.

It was when the three of them started closing in on him that Kurt finally, _finally_ let panic sink in. Shouldn't they be walking away? There was no way they'd actually severely hurt him on school property.

"I think this warrants a little trip to the dumpster, don't you?" Azimio said to Karofsky in a genial manner.

"Great idea. Grab him." Karofsky said and if Kurt weren't about to enter a really dangerous situation he might have paused to appreciate the wonderful homage they were all paying to classic mob boss movies.

It was just as Buzzcut picked up Kurt and hoisting him over his shoulder that Kurt heard the voice of an angel. Or satan. What to call it was debatable.

"Put down the homosexual." Sue called through a highly unnecessary megaphone.

Kurt hit the ground flat on his back before he even realized what was happening and the jocks were retreating, all the while Sue was yelling demeaning names and profanity at them. He lay there dazed more than anything before the megaphone was pointed directly in his face.

"Get to class!"

And that's all it took for Kurt to be up and running; making his way to his Chemistry class to take that blasted test he didn't even study for, ears ringing, and change of clothes forgotten. He was silently thanking whatever demented soul decided to put Sue Sylvester on hallway duty.

* * *

It was the pity he couldn't handle. Looks of disgust were fine, hell, he practically lived for them. Even looks of curiosity. But it was the pity that ate away at him for reasons he couldn't even begin to understand. Sure, he was gayer than a unicorn galloping in the pride parade. And yes, he did get bullied for it on occasion. That was just his lot in life. Some people got bullied for their height, or for having bucked teeth. Everyone had their cross to bear and Kurt thought he did a pretty fantastic job of bearing his.

But upon entering his chem class a good ten minutes into the period, all he wanted was to be yelled at for being late; to feel some sense of normalcy. But as soon as Blaine assessed the situation he simply looked at Kurt apologetically— _and what the hell did he have to be sorry for?_ —and mumbled a simple, "Take a seat, Hummel."

Kurt wanted to stand up on a desk and yell at the teacher; tell him to stop treating him as if he were some fucking anomaly which could break if handled a bit too roughly.

But he didn't do that because he supposed that would be unacceptable and the school would call his parents and tell them that Kurt was crazy and should be put in therapy or whatever.

So he bit his tongue when Blaine walked by to hand him his test and he hoped with all his might that Blaine wouldn't stop and try to console him or comfort him or ask something dumb like "Are you okay, Kurt?" Because he swore he'd fucking lose it.

He could take the kicking and the prodding and the glaring but kindness was something so foreign he swore it would make him cry.

Of course Blaine asked anyway because that was just so _like him_ and he really couldn't help himself, could he?

"I've never been better." Kurt answered. "I mean, blue isn't really my color, but…"

Blaine's eyes dropped down to the slushie stain on his shirt before they were brought back up to Kurt's face. "Well I think it brings out your eyes."

And Kurt wanted to be annoyed; he honestly tried. But he couldn't help but smile and even blush like some freaking hormonal teenage girl.

"Can I take my test now?" Kurt asked, trying to feign annoyance anyway. Blaine simply grinned knowingly and handed him the test.

"Good luck."

_I'll need it,_ Kurt added. He was in trouble; and it had little to do with the chemistry test in front of him.

* * *

"If that guy keeps looking at you like that we're leaving." Sebastian declared; gripping the end of his fork a bit too tightly as he sat across the table from Blaine.

"Like what?" Blaine asked with a small laugh, playing the innocent when he knew exactly what was happening and just liked to watch Sebastian squirm.

"Like he's picturing you naked." Sebastian said. "What a creep."

"Five years ago you _were_ that creep." Blaine reminded him, taking a bite of his salad and chewing.

Sebastian gave him the glare that he reserved for very specific times like this when Blaine had outwitted him and he could no longer counter with words.

"But, if it makes you feel any better, you were a lot cuter." Blaine added, his heart swelling at Sebastian's reluctant smile.

Blaine wanted to tell Sebastian he looked wonderful when he smiled and should do it more often; but the truth was he did smile a lot. But it wasn't the same smile as the one he donned now; the one accompanied by a bashful laugh; the one where his eyes crinkled a little at the corners and it looked so natural as if it had always been there.

But Blaine didn't quite know how to explain it and by the time he opened his mouth to try the smile was gone.

* * *

"Streisand!" Rachel suggested, and causing Kurt and Quinn to scoff at the same time.

"One of your dumber ideas." Kurt muttered.

Rachel huffed indignantly, putting her hands on her hips in a way she had been accustomed to doing ever since she was three and a half. Kurt rolled his eyes. He knew the moment she adopted that stance it meant she was preparing to throw a major tantrum.

"We really appreciate your help, Rachel. It's very selfless of you."

Rachel's room got really quiet after that. Quinn hadn't said two nice words to her in the entirety of their friendship—if one could call it that. Yet this new and improved Quinn seemed to lack the fiery hatred of the old one; and no one could quite place why that was so disconcerting.

But then a smile broke out on Rachel's face. She liked to be complimented. "Oh, it's nothing. I wouldn't want my inevitable victory to be _too_ easy. I like a challenge."

And just like that the tension dissolved and they continued to talk about their assignment for glee club.

* * *

Kurt walked into Blaine's room that Wednesday afternoon to discover the teacher packing up his grading book and papers.

"Oh, are we…was tutoring cancelled today?" Kurt asked, slightly disappointed but understanding that Blaine had a fully-developed life that had nothing to do with Kurt or any other student.

Blaine looked up. "Oh, no, not at all. We're just changing venues."

"Okay?" Kurt said, holding the door open for Blaine as the teacher left the classroom, and following close behind him. "Where are we going?"

"Weight room." Blaine said.

Kurt made a face. The last time he was in McKinley's weight room had to be freshmen year when it was a part of the gym curriculum. It took a total of two days before he was exempt from those weekly meetings in that accursed room; mostly due to the complaints of other boys.

"I take it working out doesn't appeal to your delicate sensibilities?" Blaine teased.

Kurt ignored the jest. "Why are we going to the weight room?"

"You'll see." Blaine responded cryptically and Kurt was never one for working out puzzles. But he followed the teacher all the way down to the weight room, which hadn't changed a single bit since he last saw it; save for the fact that they found a way to get rid of the blood stain that used to be on one of the mats on the far left.

"Kurt Hummel, welcome to Self-Defense 101. I'll be your instructor." Blaine announced and it took every ounce of self-control Kurt possessed not to laugh.

"You're kidding."

Blaine shook his head. "It's high time someone taught you how to throw a punch."

"What makes you think I don't already know how?"

Blaine shrugged. "Just a guess." He gestured to the punching bag. "But, you're welcome to prove me wrong."

And _there_ it was. A challenge. Now Kurt had absolutely no choice in the matter but to strap on those stupid boxing gloves—"Are these on backwards?"—and to beat Blaine at his own game.

Blaine rolled his eyes and walked over, putting the gloves on for Kurt and adjusting it to accommodate his small wrist size. "How does that feel?" He asked, throat going a bit dry when he realized how close he was to the student.

"Heavy." Kurt settled on saying; the gloves tugging his arms down. Blaine smiled a bit and backed away slightly. He didn't know why he was doing this. It was the exact opposite of what he should be doing—avoiding Hummel. But he'd never met someone so self-righteous yet downright _helpless_ all at once and Blaine couldn't have that on his conscience. He was teaching Kurt how to defend himself for his _safety_ , and that was on a strictly professional level.

Kurt stood in front of the punching bag and Blaine immediately identified about ten things wrong with his stance. He came up behind him and placed two hands on his shoulders, causing Kurt to flinch.

"Arms up like this." He said, guiding Kurt's arms to a better position. "Straighter posture." He suggested, and felt Kurt's shoulder muscles tense up as he stood a bit straighter. "And relax." He added.

About a million red flags went up in Blaine's brain, warning him how this could lead to a disaster but he ignored every single one of them.

Blaine felt Kurt relax slightly against him, but not nearly enough. "Just breathe. " He instructed. "Slowly. In and out."

He spent what must have been a minute in silence; holding Kurt as the two simply breathed until he finally relaxed.

"Good." Blaine said in a way that made Kurt shiver slightly. He stepped away. "Now for these first few punches just focus on force. We'll work on precision later."

Kurt took that as his cue to throw his first punch which, for lack of a better term, sucked.

"Oh, come on, you can do better than that." Blaine said and Kurt threw another punch, still completely composed.

"That was terrible." Blaine said, laughing a bit and the sound echoed in Kurt's ears; taunting him. Because no one ever took him seriously, did they? It's like everyone was laughing at some big joke and Kurt couldn't understand the punch-line.

Kurt hit the bag again, making a small noise of exertion with all the force he used; yet the bag barely budged. He sighed; fists falling in defeat.

"Come on, Hummel. I know you're angrier than that." Blaine jeered. "You have a lot to be pissed about."

"Maybe I'd do better if the punching bag had your face on it." Kurt said bitterly and immediately regretted it, but as opposed to getting angry Blaine laughed.

"There we go. Focus on that anger." Blaine said. There was so much locked up rage in everything Kurt did and one would have to be blind not to see it. The kid was pissed off almost all the time and did a poor job of hiding it. "Go on, hit your hardest."

And before Blaine even finished that sentence Kurt was hitting. And hitting and hitting with so much force the bag nearly came off of its hook. And he should have been tired but he just kept going in this display of unabashed fury. Some of the most pitiful noises were coming out of his mouth; like the sounds a trapped animal would make and all Blaine could do was stare as Kurt Hummel succumbed to his anger; became unmade in front of him.

Eventually Kurt used up all his energy and stopped all movement, simply breathing heavily. And even now Blaine couldn't help but stare; couldn't help but think that Kurt looked gorgeous with his skin flushed and his chest heaving up and down and god, Blaine was going to land himself in prison if he didn't stop having thoughts like that.

He got the vague feeling he was seeing something he wasn't supposed to see; like someone getting out of the shower or two people sharing a special moment.

Then Kurt turned away, cutting off Blaine's view. And there was a moment of silence before Blaine heard what sounded like a whimper; or what could have been a sob. But just like that it was gone and Kurt turned back around, clamoring with those stupid god damn gloves as he tried to take them off.

"Let me." Blaine said, reaching forward and sliding the gloves off of each of Kurt's hands. He stayed quiet; holding Kurt's hand for a moment longer than necessary before he turned away.

"Maybe that's enough for one day?" He suggested and that caused Kurt to laugh.

"Yeah, that was…I'm sorry. I'm…god, so sorry." Kurt apologized.

"No, that's…that's okay. Just, remind me never to piss you off, yeah?"

And they both laughed then; but there was a nervous energy about them as they both stirred clear of each other in an exercise of restraint.


	12. Chapter 12

Blaine went home and promptly shut the door to the bedroom before flopping onto his bed and screaming into his pillow. He hadn't done that since he was in high school, and he remembered it being the last time because his mom walked in and thought he was trying to suffocate himself—"Blainers, when you're done playing dead there's meatloaf on the table."—which, in her defense, wouldn't have been too far-fetched.

He was frustrated in more ways than one and it was going to absolutely ruin him. It had been hours ago, but he could still feel the way Kurt's body went completely lax under his fingertips; how he followed Blaine's instructions so precisely and it thrilled him in the worst possible way. It made him wonder what exactly his reaction would have been if Blaine told him to-

_He's a child,_ Blaine reminded himself and that made his thoughts seem a lot less appealing.

"Beige or eggshell?" Sebastian called from the other room, which was so out of the blue it made those horrible thoughts go away entirely.

"What?"

"The living room. I'm having it repainted. Beige or eggshell?"

"I don't get it. Is that a gay thing?" Blaine called back, doing his best impersonation of his mother's voice and he couldn't contain his laughter when he heard Sebastian coming up the steps via indignant stomps.

"Listen, dork." Sebastian started from behind the closed door and that made Blaine laugh even more. "Pick a color or else I'm shoving this paint catalogue up your ass." Blaine didn't have to see Sebastian's face to know that his boyfriend was fighting the urge to smile.

"What were the options?"

"Beige. Or. Eggshell." Sebastian said, irritation building.

"Aren't those the same colors?" Blaine asked and actually heard Sebastian's sigh from behind the door.

"Beige it is." Sebastian said decidedly, obviously done with Blaine's bullshit for the day.

"Love you." Blaine said as compensation.

"Yeah, yeah." Sebastian responded, laughing slightly before he made his way back down stairs to coordinate his plans with some decorator he hired.

* * *

Ms. Ray concluded the class by announcing that there would be a final test on the Iliad that following Monday and Kurt swung his messenger bag over his shoulder and made a hasty escape, walking to meet Rachel by his locker.

He found her waiting, dressed in all black. He rolled his eyes accordingly.

He looked around a bit before leaning down and whispering, "Did you buy it?"

She huffed. "Cooperate, Kurt." And he had no clue why Rachel insisted on such dramatics; but he would play along if it meant getting what he wanted.

"You got the goods?" He whispered.

She nodded; seemingly sated for the moment. "You got the dough?"

He handed her a fifty dollar bill and she handed him the shopping bag, and the two stayed silent for a moment so Rachel could absorb the wonderful theatricality of the moment. But then Kurt started laughing and the moment was gone.

"You already have a bunch of scarves. Why do you need any more?" She asked him as his laughter died down.

"To choke people with." He responded as he took them out of the bag and sniffed them. They smelled like retail and oh god, he really did miss going to the mall.

He didn't deny that fact as he put the shopping bag into his locker. He swore if the thought entered _anyone's_ head to mess with them he'd cut so many bitches it would become fucking art class in that hallway.

"Would you happen to know where Finn is?" Rachel asked and Kurt shrugged.

"Probably by Noah's locker. I think they're going bowling." He said, and Rachel went off to find Finn and probably yell at him for forgetting about their plans.

He was on his way to the parking lot when he encountered Blaine. "Hey, Kurt! I was just looking for you." He handed Kurt a cup of coffee.

Kurt accepted it, slightly surprised. "Thank you?"

"No problem." Blaine said. He had always noticed that Kurt got a bit tired toward the end of the day and was already in the process of getting coffee for himself. "It's from the teacher's lounge, though, so yeah. I've warned you."

Kurt was already taking a sip before Blaine finished talking, and his nose wrinkled as the taste of the slightly stale coffee settled on his tongue; causing the teacher to laugh.

"I'll make a special trip to the Lima Bean next time. Sound good?" Blaine proposed.

"Sounds perfect." Kurt said gratefully, taking another sip. "You know, after it's done burning off all my taste buds this coffee doesn't taste half bad."

Blaine laughed again and Kurt fought the urge to record the sound on his phone and set it as his ringtone. "You're really a brat, you know that?"

"Hurtful." Kurt responded; smiling.

"Later, Hummel." He started to walk away before turning back around. "And uh…between you and me I'm giving a pop quiz tomorrow. So, look over your notes."

Kurt looked slightly stunned before nodding. "Um, yeah. Will do. Have a good day, sir."

Blaine waved one last time before walking away as fast as possible. If he stayed a bit longer he was sure he would have been handing Kurt the answer keys to every test he planned on giving all freaking semester. It was pathetic; so ridiculously pathetic what he was doing. He was being brought to his knees—no pun intended—by a kid nearly a decade younger than him.

* * *

It was as Quinn and Kurt worked on dividing up the song for their Glee assignment that Kurt asked her the burning question. "What's the difference between someone flirting and someone just being really nice?"

Quinn looked up from her sheet music; interest peaked. She was soon wearing a knowing smile. "Is there someone I should know about?"

"Of course not. I'm just…" He looked down and finished lamely. "Curious. I'm curious."

"Right." She said, still wearing an infuriating grin. "Well, it depends. You can usually tell if that person is only that nice to you."

"Oh…" Kurt said, and then he tried again. "What if they notice things about you? What does that mean?"

Quinn looked Kurt over with a critical eye. She wasn't born yesterday and she knew what a love-struck boy looked like. She'd broken the hearts a few of them herself; had her heart broken by one or two. This was her area of expertise, she knew enough about young love to write a book.

"Who is he?" She asked again and watched for the tell-tale blush that stained Kurt's cheeks. He was so smitten and clueless. This was all something that was still new and exciting for him and Quinn wished there had been someone around to answer all of her questions when she was this new to the game; thought that maybe things might have turned out differently if only—

But that's not how it went and that's okay, too. Quinn was still happy. Happy. Happy. The word floated around in her mind like a virus.

"There's no one." Kurt insisted but upon receiving a 'bull-shit' glare he said, "He's not really a student at McKinley."

"Want to know my advice?" Quinn said sincerely, and Kurt nodded. "If he really likes you, he'll make a move. And just…if he does make sure you're responsible, Kurt. Don't rush things. There's plenty of time to go out into the world and experience things but make sure the timing is right."

Kurt let everything Quinn said sink in. He knew there was no way Blaine could have feelings for him; let alone _act_ on them. But the advice still hit home. Maybe Kurt _was_ rushing things. He saw everyone around him in a relationship and he was so eager to have his own that he was making one up in his head. He had to drop it. Blaine was his teacher, and one could even make the stretch to say they were friends. But there was nothing else going on.

"Thanks." Kurt said, heart dropping a bit at the realization that he'd been deceiving himself.

"No problem. Now back to the song. I was thinking we could change the key…"

* * *

"Finn, I'm begging you; put down my phone." Kurt said.

"Not until you tell me who Chandler is." Finn demanded and Kurt simply groaned. He knew it was a bad idea. He asked Finn to answer his phone if it rang; Kurt was busy preparing a dinner.

"He's just…this guy." Kurt answered and Finn seemed less than satisfied with the answer.

"I don't know what half of these compliments mean," Finn started as he read over some of the texts, "But I think this one is talking about your...um…rear end. And that's not okay."

Kurt turned red. "We're just friends."

"For sure." Finn said sarcastically. "You're my little brother, Kurt, I'm not gonna stand for some pervy guy saying these things to you."

"I'm older than you." Kurt reminded him for what felt like the millionth time. "And he's not a perv. We met at the music store and we just…kid around."

"What does 'kid around' mean?" Finn demanded. "Does that…is that some sort of like…sex thing?"

"Oh my god." Kurt muttered indignantly; trying to grab at his phone with his flour covered hands.

The truth was Kurt didn't know what he and Chandler were. They had a lot in common and spent a good amount of time sending each other links to music or fashion blogs they thought the other would like. But occasionally their conversations took a turn and became mildly…flirtatious, one could say. But they were joking. Because there was no way someone would _actually_ be interested in Kurt. He accepted that fact two days ago during his conversation in Quinn. He'd have to wait until college to even pursue the thought of a relationship, and he honestly didn't mind.

"I'm so telling Burt." Finn said.

"Tell him." Kurt encouraged. "And I'll tell him what you and Rachel did last week in the backseat of his truck." He still had nightmares about it sometimes. All he did was catch them making out, but things were getting pretty heavy and some downright _filthy_ things were said.

"Okay, okay." Finn set down the cellphone. "But I just…I don't like the idea of some random dude trying to…seduce you, or whatever."

Kurt laughed loudly at that. "Okay, no. That's so not what's happening. I promise."

"You sure?"

"Positive." Kurt assured him. "Now pass me the baking powder."

* * *

"And then he was all 'beige or eggshell'." Blaine said into the phone, mimicking Sebastian's voice and causing Cooper to laugh. "I have no clue when he got so...I don't know, _posh_."

"We're all posh. It's a rich thing." Cooper explained. "Like the other day I ordered business cards with the writing in ruby red. And they made it in _cherry_ red. I nearly asked for a refund."

"Maybe you and Sebastian should be the ones in a relationship."

He didn't mean that. He knew he didn't mean that. Because he and Sebastian were meant to be together and when he thought back on it there was no other way it could have ended up. It was Sebastian who saved him; he wouldn't have survived high school let alone college if it weren't for him. No matter how much he thought back, or even looked forward, he couldn't see a time where he'd be without him.

"We'd kill each other." Cooper said. "But the sex would be pretty amazing."

"Gross. Did not need the image." Blaine said. "Speaking of sex, how's Kelsey doing?"

"Sabrina." Cooper supplied a bit sheepishly.

"No, her name's Kelsey…" Blaine said before catching on. "Coop, really? Already? You were only dating her for two weeks."

"Yeah…things got a bit weird after the whole rug burn incident."

Cooper was infamous in the family for his inability to settle down. Blaine supposed the pressure must have been a bit unbearable, considering both of their parents pretty much doted on Cooper ever since Blaine revealed his "alternative" views. Their hopes of Blaine being the perfect little businessman with a beautiful wife and seven kids were pretty much dashed, and Cooper wasn't looking very promising.

Another reason Blaine wasn't sure about the whole 'having kids' thing. They simply disappointed you in the end.

"You find a flaw in every girl you ever date."

"There's only one flawless girl in existence but you refuse to hook me up with her." Cooper reminded him.

"For the last time, Santana isn't interested in you. Or anyone else of the male gender."

"You keep saying that, but my heart's telling me to go for it." His brother said.

Ever since Cooper and Santana met a few years back Cooper had been absolutely obsessed, and pretty much brought her up every chance he got. Even if he actually stood a chance there was no way in hell Blaine would allow that to happen.

"If bitter disappointment and heartbreak is your ideal outcome, then by all means, go ahead."

"Listen, when I see something I want, I go after it." Cooper said. "I don't want to end up decaying in a nursing home somewhere; full of regret because of things I didn't do while I was young and devilishly sexy."

Blaine would roll his eyes but it wouldn't have the desired effect over the phone. "But she has a _girlfriend_. It'd be wrong."

"All is fair in love and war, kiddo." Cooper said. "There _are_ no rules, or limits, or whatever other boring thing you could come up with."

Blaine tried to dismiss what Cooper was saying as the ramblings of a mad man, but even long after their conversation ended he found the words were still swimming around in his head.


	13. Chapter 13

"So Finn tells me some guy's been trying to get into your pants." Puck said at the dinner table when he was sitting across from _Kurt's father_ and Kurt nearly choked on the cherry tomato he was busy chewing. He wiped dressing off of the corner of his mouth and curtly pushed his salad away as to address these allegations in the most proper way:

"Finn's a fucking idiot."

"Hey, watch your mouth." Burt admonished and then continued talking to Carole, and Kurt thanked every deity he'd ever heard of that Burt didn't hear the first part of their conversation.

"Dude, you weren't supposed to say anything to him." Finn whispered vehemently but that didn't deter Puck in the slightest.

"Is it true?" Puck asked. "Because if this is actually a thing that's going to happen I can give you some pointers."

Kurt almost gagged right then and there, not sure who to be more upset with or what to be more distraught over. "No."

"Oh, come on, I'm like an expert. I mean; I've only slept with chicks but guys can't be _that_ different…"

"I meant _no,_ as in, there's no guy trying to…to get in my pants, or whatever." He whispered the last part, not feeling too keen on having this discussion right across from his dad, who was too busy trying to sneak salt onto his food to notice, god bless him.

Kurt swore the next time Puck visited he would make it his personal business to be somewhere else. The jock was like that embarrassing uncle that got drunk at every holiday party and occasionally got a bit handsy. Or maybe the handsy bit was just indigenous to Puck; but either way Kurt wasn't having any bit of it.

"I have homework so I think I'll head upstairs." Kurt said out loud, excusing himself from the table and going to his room to find a bit of peace.

His phone buzzed and a text from someone very familiar was on his screen.

**Chandler:** How's it going, beautiful?

**Kurt:** I've been better. You?

**Chandler:** Great now that I'm talking to you.

Okay, so Kurt wasn't born yesterday. That was definitely flirting. Blatantly out there without being overly exaggerated. So maybe Chandler wasn't joking this time. And maybe the fluttering in Kurt's stomach was due to more than the fact that he didn't get to finish eating.

**Kurt:** If I didn't know any better I'd say you were coming onto me.

Kurt waited a while; each second swelling in size until it felt like minutes and in each minute lay a mini eternity as he waited for a response. Maybe he scared him away? That seemed more possible. More like what he was used to.

**Chandler:** Well you're awfully perceptive.

Kurt would openly admit that the sound that just came out of his mouth was not human. It was possibly akin to a pig squealing or maybe a pterodactyl, but no use dwelling on that because his phone buzzed again with _another_ message and holy hell; he wasn't sure if he could handle another one.

**Chandler:** Would you want to…hang out sometime?

_Breathe,_ Kurt instructed himself as he typed out a reply.

**Kurt:** What would you have in mind?

There. That was perfect. He didn't seem completely desperate but at the same time he seemed pretty open to anything.

**Chandler:** Macadam's Community Theater. My friend had two tickets to go see their production of The Sound of Music next weekend but he has to get his tonsils taken out so…

**Kurt:** I love The Sound of Music.

**Chandler:** I know. You told me, remember? So is that a yes?

**Kurt:** Let me check my schedule…

**Chandler:** Alright.

Kurt had absolutely no plans that weekend. Zero. Not even zero. The amount of plans he had were in the negative numbers but he didn't want Chandler to catch on. So he waited fifteen minutes before replying.

**Kurt:** I'm free. And I'd love to go.

**Chandler:** Awesome. I'll give you details later on in the week.

**Kurt:** Great. Can't wait.

It was probably half an hour later when Kurt finally realized what had happened. He was going on a date. Sort of. With someone of the male gender. And he didn't even have to blackmail or threaten them. But he held off on his celebration. He wouldn't tell a single soul until _after_ it occurred because his inner skeptic told him something would find a way to go wrong. It always did and he had to be prepared for the worst.

But at that very moment Kurt had a date planned for next weekend. And he was feeling pretty fantastic.

* * *

"Love the hat." Blaine said while escorting Kurt to the weight room. He'd rescheduled their sessions for Fridays as to not conflict with their tutoring lessons on Wednesdays.

"Love the bowtie." Kurt remarked sarcastically on pure defense before it sunk in that Blaine meant it; he really did like Kurt's hat. "Sorry." He mumbled before sipping at the coffee that his teacher went all the way to the Lima Bean to get. Just like he said he would.

Blaine shrugged it off, continuing to survey the student's outfit. "This look is…different. What inspired it?"

And Jesus Christ, could he be any more obvious? He spent way too much time looking at Kurt, noticing things. He was a total creep and waited for Kurt to call him out on it. But then again, he knew that would never even occur to him. Because his student was incredibly naïve and foolish and would never consider the possibility that Blaine's intent was less than pure. Things like that didn't exist in his world and if Blaine didn't quit pushing his limits he'd be tainting Kurt's innocent concept of reality.

"It all started when I was watching the Little Mermaid…" The student started to explain-further proving Blaine's point of how truly child-like he was no matter how he looked physically— and oh, so _that's_ what it was. It was obviously a nautically themed look, but Blaine had never really encountered a sailor who wore jeans that were _that_ close fitting.

"I like it." Blaine said decidedly, priding himself on the way Kurt absolutely beamed. He probably wasn't used to people taking such an interest in his passions, but Blaine found it inspirational. Kurt took something he liked and raised it to another level; made it into an art form. If people took the time to understand him more; look beyond the unusual color schemes and outlandish articles of clothing; maybe they'd see they were sharing their halls with a walking masterpiece.

And fuck, he was doing it again. That creepy thing.

"Thanks." Kurt said, eyes downcast in a display of bashfulness that Blaine absolutely lived for.

"You might want to change, though." He said as an afterthought, but he noticed the student was wearing multiple layers. "Or you could just take off the first few hundred layers."

"Okay, first of all, it's only three layers. And second of all, that would be _highly_ indecent."

Jesus Christ, Blaine was going straight to hell. He was having filthy thoughts about a guy who had the values of a Puritan.

"Of course, my bad." Blaine said. "God forbid anyone sees you in your bloomers."

Kurt scoffed. "Jerk."

"Brat."

It was refreshing for Kurt, being around someone as witty as he was without them also being cruel. He didn't have to dumb himself down around Blaine to be understood; something he hadn't even realized he had to do until he was freed from doing so. And as ridiculously sentimental as it sounded it made him feel less alone. Less like he was talking to walking statues and more like he was talking to an actual human being who was willing to see him as more than a stereotype, but as a fellow person who had thoughts and feelings and dreams and hopes.

He'd been starved before then and didn't even realize it. Completely starved of what actual human contact was like. Here in this plastic city of Lima where he was regarded as a fool and a sinner, here was contact from the outside; someone who didn't buy into the stupid ideology that everyone else believed in. A free thinker, who went to college in New York and actually had a _boyfriend_ , achieved the future that Kurt was striving for; a future Kurt had begun to doubt existed.

Blaine Anderson was a beacon of light in a dark world and by golly, Kurt was going to absolutely kick himself the next time he thought something that sounded so smarmy.

He was over his stupid crush, but Blaine still meant so much to him in a way the teacher wouldn't begin to understand. He was proof; living breathing proof that things could get better for people like Kurt after high school. And no one else was able to hush all the demons in his head telling him otherwise.

_And_ he had a date in about a week. Things were really looking up.

* * *

"Hit me."

"I'm not going to hit you." Kurt said, rolling his eyes.

"I'm sure you've wanted to on several occasions. I'm giving you _permission_."

Kurt eyed Blaine warily before forming a fist with his right hand and aiming to punch Blaine in the arm but he found his hand being stopped. Just like that. Blaine was holding Kurt's hand in his own and had successfully evaded it.

"You know what your problem is?" Blaine said. "You're too expressive. I knew exactly what you were planning on doing and where you were planning on moving. It was written all over your face."

"I feel like I'm in the Karate Kid." Kurt mumbled.

"Uh, no. That would make me the old guy."

"My point exactly."

"Just how old do you think I am?" Blaine asked, out of genuine curiosity more than actual offense.

Great. Kurt knew he was in trouble now. Last time he guessed a teacher's age—"So Mr. Schue, you're forty now, right?"—he had not only hurt feelings, but landed himself in detention.

"Uh…thirty?" Kurt tried. He actually never spent too much time pondering Blaine's age. It was more Blaine's status that used to intimidate Kurt, not the amount of years he'd been around.

Blaine shook his head. "Close."

"Thirty five?" Kurt tried and Blaine looked absolutely scandalized so he back-pedaled. "I meant twenty-five! Just…twos and threes. Confusing stuff."

Blaine couldn't help but smirk a bit at Kurt's obvious distress. "I'm twenty six."

_Not bad,_ Kurt thought and immediately felt like smacking himself for it. His days of schoolboy crushes were over. He was an adult now. Who had a date in a week. Which he was still going coastal over.

"You're practically a baby."

"Says the child." Blaine countered.

Kurt pouted. "I'm so not a child. Children are small and annoying and ask a bunch of questions."

"You've just described yourself." Blaine remarked and chuckled at Kurt's less than pleased expression.

"Well, at least my questions are insightful."

"Oh, is that what they're calling pretentious nowadays?"

The look on the boy's face was priceless. Blaine would pay money to have it framed.

"You, sir, are unlawfully rude."

_And you're simply unlawful,_ Blaine thought but didn't say. Just then Blaine's phone rang and he answered it, grateful for the distraction.

* * *

They finally left the building at around five, engaging in light chatter as they walked across the parking lot to their respective cars.

"So am I improving?" Kurt asked, walking artfully through the snow while Blaine's stature only allowed him to plunder through it.

"It's as I've said earlier, you're just really predictable."

"I'd have to disagree." Kurt said absent-mindedly, although a quick glance behind him informed Blaine that the student was clearly delighting in kicking his feet through a mound of snow as opposed to taking his words to heart.

Blaine smiled a bit at the display before turning back around to walk toward his car. "Face it, Hummel. You're an open-" He stopped talking mid-sentence when he felt the impact of the ball of snow on his left cheek.

"And I'm so sure you saw that coming."

Blaine turned around to see Kurt wearing the smuggest grin and he really could not have that, now could he? So he simply scooped up some snow himself and threw it at the student; the majority of it hitting his shoulder.

"You really have no clue what you've gotten yourself into." Kurt said and a few throws later they were having a full blown snowball fight.

A snowball fight, for Christ's sake. Blaine honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd had one of these; or if he'd really had any at all.

He never really got excited about the snow growing up. But then again he grew up in Jersey, and people from Jersey never got overly emotional about much, except when someone claimed Pizza Hut served real pizza, or a driver doesn't navigate based on parkway exits. Really, being desensitized to his surroundings was something deeply rooted in his upbringing.

But Kurt saw the value in the snow. And because he saw it, Blaine saw it.

And he wouldn't be able to explain how it happened; but they both tripped at the same instance, causing both of them to fall straight in the snow.

"Oh my god, I'm absolutely _covered_ in it." Kurt practically shrieked but then about a moment or two into his breakdown he seemed to decide it wasn't worth the heart attack, opting to laugh instead. And wow, Blaine took back everything he said about Kurt being predictable. He was dynamic, constantly shifting and changing and revealing some new side of him; some better side that Blaine adored even more than the last.

Blaine was laughing too, picking himself up and brushing the snow off of his person before helping Kurt off of the ground as well. The student's normally perfectly styled hair was now drooping; dusted with snow here and there.

"Come here, you've got um- you've got a bit of snow…" Blaine mumbled, reaching up with a gloved hand and brushing it off. This close he could see how flushed Kurt was; could feel the heat radiating off of him in stark contrast to the cold air all around him; the slight shiver running up his student's spine.

He stood there longer than necessary; simply watching Kurt breathe; his puffs of air visible in the frigid atmosphere and he could feel himself slipping, slipping, slipping and couldn't help but think that there was really no harm in falling, was there? Just this once; one taste couldn't really be much of a sin, could it?

And then Kurt cleared his throat and backed away a few inches. "I've uh...I've got to get going. But thank you, sir. I _really_ appreciate the help."

Blaine's head was swimming with what he almost did, and it would have been so _stupid, stupid, stupid_.

"Anytime. Have a good weekend."

"You too." Kurt said, before walking a few feet to his car, getting in, and driving off.

Blaine got into his car too, but didn't drive off right away. He simply leaned his head against the steering wheel and groaned loudly. He was in way too deep at this point and was a cross between being remorseful and rejoicing.


	14. Chapter 14

"I apologize for Cooper in advance and promise not to let him off of his leash next time." Blaine said as soon as he picked up Santana's call, laptop open with a half-finished college recommendation on the screen.

She laughed. "Thanks, but that's not what I'm calling about. I have exciting news…"

"You've finally landed that big blockbuster movie deal?"

"No. Keep guessing." She said, giggling a little. _Giggling._

Throughout his entire time of knowing Santana he had probably heard her giggle a total of three times. As he thought back on those times it all slowly sunk in.

"Wait…are you-" He started but was promptly cut off.

"I'M GETTING HITCHED, HOBBIT!" She yelled into the phone before laughing again with pure unaltered joy.

"San, that is _amazing_." He said, and then added. "Wait. Not to Cooper, right?"

It wouldn't be the first time Cooper had managed to convince someone to marry him overnight.

"No, but lord knows he tried." Santana said. "Brittany proposed over dinner last night…"

Blaine listened to Santana's detailed retelling of the moment with a fond smile on his face. It would be just like Brittany to lose the ring and then have the management make an announcement to find said ring because she had to propose to her fiancé but "shhh it's a surprise".

"So, any idea of when?" He asked.

"We're thinking of a summer wedding…"

Blaine had attended his fair share of weddings. But as he grew older they were occurring more and more frequently. He watched as pretty much all of his friends finally decided to settle down and well…grow up.

He supposed marriage was just a formality, but the idea did scare him. It just seemed so official. So dead-end. And it sealed the deal in a way that he guessed he wasn't ready for. He loved Sebastian, honestly, but he'd seen from experience that marriage had a way of ruining love. Seeing the way his own parents argued simply jaded him from the whole experience.

Plus Sebastian wasn't exactly the type to be interested in marriage. There was no way he could picture the two exchanging vows without Sebastian laughing out loud at the cheesiness of it all and suggesting they skip the whole ceremony and go somewhere more private. But Blaine loved that about him; his dislike for all things traditional.

And how odd was that; to fall in love with someone else's hatred?

When he told Sebastian the news the reaction was expected.

"Do we actually have to show up?"

Blaine gave him a look. "She's your friend too, you know."

Cue the sigh. "Well, I don't do weddings."

" _Well,_ you do now." Blaine said with finality; laughing at the resulting frown. "It's months away, anyhow."

And Sebastian actually _pouted,_ which instantly reminded Blaine of a specific person that he should definitely have not been thinking of while talking to his boyfriend. He blinked slightly; trying to rid himself of the disconcerting image.

"I'll be in the living room if you need me." Blaine declared; kissing Sebastian's pout and heading off to another room to clear his head.

* * *

"If we sing one more Journey song I'll mutiny." Kurt mumbled under his breath to Mercedes during Glee club the following Monday afternoon. That past weekend the club had managed to successfully not suck ass at Sectionals, and were now preparing for Regionals.

The Spanish teacher seemed overly excited about something and whenever that happened Kurt just got increasingly nervous. It was like watching a car come at you in slow motion and not being able to move. Tina, in the first row of seats, had given up on listening entirely; earphones in both of her ears to drown out the madness.

"I've been hearing some wonderful things about these duets, guys. I'm really glad you guys are working together so well." He praised. "But I feel like you're all getting a bit too comfortable. So I've decided to up the stakes."

"The winners get to be the opening act at Regionals." Mercedes whispered to Kurt about five seconds before Mr. Schue said it. "I swear I'm watching a re-run."

Kurt smirked a bit at the joke but the truth was it really did pique his interest. He'd been a member of this club back when there were five members and didn't get a single solo at Regionals the year previous. And although he wasn't as obnoxious about it as some of his fellow classmates—okay, so maybe he did get pretty annoying—he deserved his chance to shine.

This year would be his. He had a boyfriend; although that wasn't finalized yet it was _so_ happening, he was getting amazing grades; save for chemistry but he was steadily working on it, so naturally the next step was to blow everyone away with his wonderful talent at Regionals and get a standing ovation. Sure, he'd have to share it with Quinn but he didn't mind that.

He must have spent the whole meeting day-dreaming because before he knew it everyone was getting up to leave and Finn was saying something to him about staying back for football practice. Kurt took that as his opportunity to grab Quinn and practice because he'd go to hell and back to make sure Rachel Berry, bless her soul, didn't steal this away from him.

* * *

Sebastian stormed out of the hospital and away from Blaine. The aforementioned, on the other hand, couldn't understand why his boyfriend was so knew Blaine wasn't really well adjusted when it came to conversing with the overly sensitive, stick-up-the-ass friends that Sebastian insisted on associating himself with outside of the work place. This must have been the third banquet he'd managed to make a mess of, and only one of them was intentional.

"Seb, wait!" Blaine called after him as the aforementioned trudged across the parking lot. "How was I supposed to know Shannon had herpetophobia?"

The curiosity was enough to stop Sebastian in his tracks. He turned and regarded Blaine in a mixture of fondness and irritation. "What the _hell_ does herstophobia mean?"

" _Herpetophobia_." Blaine corrected. "And it means fear of reptiles."

Sebastian actually laughed out loud at that because he really wasn't sure what else to do. The situation was ludicrous. "Well, I'd be pretty terrified too if I saw some scaly green thing looking up at me from the dinner table."

"He was supposed to be in his cage."

"Riddle me this, bird brain." Sebastian said, trying his best to be patient. "Why the _fuck_ would you need a lizard?"

Blaine explained that he'd been baby-sitting Thomas—"Who's Thomas?" "The lizard, Sebastian, keep up."—for the biology teacher while he went to Arizona for a funeral. He figured it wasn't on a need to know basis and just neglected to tell Sebastian; keeping the tank in their attic. It seemed simple enough in his head, but it got a whole lot weirder once one tiny mistake made a grown woman faint and flash a whole room full of businessmen and lawyers in the process. It basically resulted in an early end to the festivities while the two of them had to accompany Shannon to the hospital.

"Why are you so _weird_?" Sebastian asked, not out of meanness but a genuine curiosity and desperation to know. "Don't you get how hard it already is? We're already the freaks; do we really need to stand-out any more than we already do?"

Blaine got this lecture every time he fucked up in front of someone responsible for signing Sebastian's paycheck. Sebastian had never been one to hide; being out and proud about his preferences the moment he accepted his position. And although not everyone was comfortable with it at first, Sebastian was such a good worker to the point that people overlooked it. That didn't stop the occasional snide remark here and there, but there was a time when Sebastian honestly did not care what anyone thought of him. Of them.

"Since when did you start caring so much what these people think of you?" Blaine asked.

Blaine didn't think any of them were worth his spit, if he were being truthful. They were like characters out of a badly written book; two dimensional and too laughable to be quite real.

"It's my _job_ to care, Blaine. Caring is what gets me a raise. And my job's what pays for our house, and our cars, and the fucking medical bill we're probably going to have by the end of tonight."

Blaine didn't really care how many nice things their house was filled with if the people living in said house were empty.

"You keep acting like you're the only one that works."

"With your pitiful paycheck I might as well be."

_That_ stung. But Blaine didn't get into that argument today. "They're all jerks anyway. And they smell like moth balls and never talk about things that matter."

Sebastian huffed out a short chuckle. " _Grow up_."

"You don't either, you know. You never talk about anything that matters."

"What does that even _mean_?" Sebastian asked. "Jesus Christ, you're always saying things that make no god damn sense."

Blaine looked him dead in the eye. He couldn't have been the only one who felt it. The way they were drifting apart. The old Sebastian he knew would have found a way to make a big joke out of all of this; would have appreciated the hilarity of watching stuck up Shannon flash her grandma panties.

"You know exactly what I mean."

He could see the panic behind Sebastian's eyes at the thought of where this conversation could possibly be going. " _Fine_. You want to talk? We'll talk! We'll talk all _fucking_ night about whatever you want just…" Don't do anything rash. Don't use your brain. Don't think on it too much. Don't leave.

And in that moment Blaine could have done it. He could have walked away and put as much distance between himself and the beast as he could.

But there was a beauty within the beast that would never permit him to be the one to leave.

"I'm sorry." He said. "Keeping a lizard in the attic was one of my dumber ideas."

And then Sebastian laughed and Blaine caught a brief glimpse of who he had been.

"You're nuts." Sebastian insisted as he wrapped an arm around Blaine's shoulders and walked with him to the car. "Absolutely insane."

* * *

Things between Sebastian and Blaine went back to normal quickly and with ease. Blaine was in a considerably better mood by Wednesday afternoon as he waited in his classroom for Kurt to come by for tutoring.

Honestly, if Sebastian's fake friends at his job were what made him happy, then Blaine would allow himself to delight in his friendship with the student. And any other feelings beyond that were promptly chased away.

In fact, he had decided to stop torturing himself with temptation. So as Kurt entered the classroom and made to sit in his usual seat next to Blaine he was redirected to a seat at the back of the classroom.

"Did I do something wrong?" Kurt asked out of slight concern and Blaine quickly shook his head. He didn't want Kurt to blame himself for Blaine's lack of self- control.

"I'm just giving you some practice standardized test questions. It's timed so I didn't want to distract you." He explained, handing Kurt the booklet.

Kurt nodded, not seeming overly excited about silently working the whole time but not opening his mouth to complain either. Blaine quickly gave Kurt instructions before heading over to his desk in the front of the classroom to work on writing letters of recommendation for some of his students who were applying for early admission to colleges. He purposely left them for Wednesday to give himself something to do as opposed to gawking at Kurt.

Nevertheless, an hour into it he lost resolve and found himself glancing up at the student, only to find him texting. Typical.

"Kurt. Phone. Now." Blaine said, holding his palm out.

"It was my Dad." Kurt insisted. "I was just letting him know I'm with you. He forgets sometimes."

"Just pass it to me anyway. I don't want you to be tempted."

Kurt seemed reluctant to do so but eventually stood up and handed Blaine his phone. And at the very moment he did it buzzed with a text and a name popped up on the screen.

"Who's Chandler?" Blaine asked.

"No one." Kurt mumbled but his cheeks were flushed in a way that revealed otherwise.

"If you won't tell me I'll find out myself." Blaine declared teasingly, smirking when he saw Kurt panic at the idea of Blaine going through his texts.

"I'm like one hundred percent sure you're not allowed to do that."

"And _you're_ not allowed to text in my classroom."

"Touché."

"So spill." Blaine declared. "Who's _Chandler_?" He stressed his name; playfully batting his eyelashes and watching as Kurt resisted the urge to smack him.

"Just a guy I met." Kurt said bashfully but then quickly turned upset at Blaine's laugh in response. "Okay, you're having _way_ too much fun with this."

"No." Blaine said, trying to keep his face serious. "I'm being a responsible adult and making sure you're not talking to forty year old pedophiles."

"Chandler _is_ a forty year old pedophile. Case closed." Kurt said. "Now can we talk about something else?"

"I don't know. I think it's my job to tell your Dad if that's the case."

"Well played." Kurt said begrudgingly. "Chandler is a boy. A seventeen year old one. And I'm going on a date with him this weekend."

Blaine didn't know why his heart dropped at that. He knew from the beginning that Kurt was going to say some variation of that sentence, but he guessed he was hoping he'd been wrong.

"How exciting." Blaine remarked, trying to convince himself to be happy for him. "Where?"

It was like he had broken a dam, because all of a sudden Kurt was talking in a flood of words and gestures.

"Okay, so, he's taking me to a community theater in Columbus to go see the _Sound of Music_ , and, for the record I'm pretty much in love with the Sound of Music; anyway, he's sort of been flirting for a while now but-"

Blaine started to shut it out. He wouldn't have any of it. Kurt, the literal definition of a blushing virgin going off with some beastly boy and possibly stealing shy kisses in the back of a theater, which could lead to nervous; fumbling hands practically defacing him in the back of some car and really, the thought left Blaine's blood boiling. He didn't want to hear any more of it and Kurt just _kept_ going on about how excited he was; how he couldn't wait and it would be so great and really, Chandler's such a sweet guy and Kurt had no idea how he got so _lucky_.

"And I mean, the best part is that he's not in Glee club. Don't get me wrong; I love them, but it feels as if all they do is date in different combinations. It's like, I'm pretty sure everyone's kissed each other _at least_ once."

Blaine's grip tightened a bit on the pen he was holding.

"Kurt, as much as I love hearing about your private life; you should keep who you kiss to yourself." He teased with a soft laugh.

Kurt got flustered. He began to stammer. "No, I didn't mean-" He took a deep breath, and started again. "I meant everyone but me. I've never kissed anyone."

Blaine feigned surprise. "Never?"

Kurt shook his head. "No time." He lied like it was second nature. "It's kind of hard to make time for that stuff when trying to win a Tony by age thirty and…"

The student went on and on about his future goals and aspirations but all they sounded like were excuses to avoid socializing and partaking in normal behavior. His mouth was moving at a thousand miles and his eyes were practically lighting up at the mere _thought_ and Blaine would swear the next thing he did was just to shut him up.

"I admire your ambition. I really do." And he swore his body moved of its own accord as he set the phone down. He got up, his feet moving forward as if on autopilot as he watched Kurt take a step back into the wall. "But a kiss really doesn't take that long."

Kurt's eyes widened and could Blaine blame him? Even he couldn't believe the stuff coming out of his own mouth. "Sir..." Kurt breathed out, because that's all he could find in his vocabulary in such a ludicrous moment.

"Don't call me that." He said a bit too quickly, the formal title always being Kurt's way of putting up boundaries between them. He grew weary of it; every attempt of Kurt's to distance himself from everyone who dared to care.

And Blaine didn't neglect to notice the way the student's eyes briefly flickered down to Blaine's lips. As much as Kurt Hummel liked to play the innocent he knew _exactly_ what was on his mind and the thought of the prim and proper boy feeling anything resembling lust was enough to drive anyone crazy.

That's what he would claim it was; in the end. Temporary insanity.

It was his mental instability that caused him to push Kurt against the wall; his clear psychotic nature that drove him to press his lips to Kurt's.

And _oh_ , it was more than he imagined it would be. Kurt's lips were soft and warm and inviting. And the _sound_ that came out of his mouth; something akin to a whine or a whimper; a noise of confusion like the student was at an absolute loss and had never felt something quite like this. But he was unresponsive, as if in shock.

That should have been when Blaine knew to stop. Maybe he could have salvaged the moment if he did. A taste was all he'd promised himself but now that he got it he wasn't sure if he could ever be separate from the boy again.

He continued to kiss him; slowly and deliberately as he guided Kurt's hands to his waist. And Kurt simply let himself be kissed, but soon that wasn't enough for Blaine.

All it took was a quick tug of Kurt's hair to get his mouth open. Blaine let his tongue slide slowly passed Kurt's lips when they parted, seeking the teens tongue and he shivered when he felt it, soft against his own. And it took coaxing; much coaxing but soon Kurt's lips were moving experimentally against his own and Blaine thought _this_ is it. This is paradise; this is heaven on earth-

It was the shrill ringing of his phone that brought him back down to reality. The harsh sound delivered him back to the harsh world; the world that wasn't nearly as lovely as the one he got to share with Kurt. He pulled back, delighting in the way Kurt's eyes were half-lidded, his lips following Blaine's on instinct for a split second before he caught on and pulled back as well.

And then a millisecond later the guilt and the disgust washed down on Blaine all at once; and he took several steps back. He had just forced himself on a student. An underage student. And things had just become a lot more sinister than he originally intended. And god _damn it_ , he'd smash that phone into a million pieces if it didn't stop ringing.

Kurt was still looking at him; all wide-eyed and bewildered and Blaine really couldn't take it because _even now_ he felt the urge to close the gap between them.

"I'm…Jesus, I'm so sorry. Oh my god." Blaine said, panic properly settling in. He could see how the next few minutes would go. Kurt would run out of the classroom and report him instantly and Blaine would lose his job as well as most likely land jail time.

He honestly would have preferred it to what really happened next. What really happened was far worse than anything Blaine's mind could conjure up.

Kurt looked at him and smiled. Smiled at Blaine like he wasn't the monster that he was.

"Wow. That was…wow." Kurt said, practically swooning and in another life time Blaine would be acting all love-struck to; but as they stood now he could hold nothing but contempt.

"I'm so sorry, Kurt." He kept saying because he didn't know what to say.

"I'm not going to tell; if that's what you're worried about." Kurt said and Blaine wanted to smack some sense into the student so he would realize the gravity of the situation. "I should have seen this coming…you see, I had managed to convince myself I made this all up in my head but-"

"Kurt, please stop talking."

"…but I didn't, did I? You have feelings for me. And that works out because I have feelings for you too…"

And Blaine honestly felt so sick to his stomach at what was happening he didn't know how he was holding himself together. "Stop!" He yelled and Kurt went completely silent. Throughout the entirety of their…whatever they had been, he'd never really yelled at Kurt.

"You don't have feelings for me." Blaine said firmly. "You don't even _know_ me. You're going on a date in a few days with who I'm sure is a _lovely_ person-"

"You're not honestly factoring _Chandler_ into this, are you?" It had become very clear to Kurt that Blaine had no idea just how long his infatuation for him had went on for. "I don't even really-"

"Kurt, this isn't me _negotiating_ with you." Blaine said. "I'm going to ask you to leave this classroom and what you do is your choice. You can go report me for all I-"

"This stays between us."

Blaine didn't want Kurt occupying his head with delusions because it wouldn't take long for him to convince Blaine, too _._ He'd be entering a world of falsehoods with Kurt and as wonderfully inviting as that sounded, one wrong step would land them straight in hell. So he took a deep breath before saying, "Fine. If you're not going to do the right thing and report it then I suggest you _forget it happened_."

Kurt's expression fell. He looked sad. Why did he always look so sad? "But _that's not fair_."

" _Grow up_." Blaine said harshly out of sheer frustration before he realized what he said and nearly wanted to pull his own hair out.

And he watched as Kurt literally deflated; going from boisterous and argumentative to resigned. For a split second hurt flashed across his features, but it was quickly fashioned into understanding.

"It's probably best if I go…" And then he added, "We'll talk about this on a later date when you're not going through menopause."

Blaine couldn't help but laugh slightly. As much pain as Kurt was bringing him in this moment; he brought him a tremendous amount of joy.

"No, we won't."

Kurt simply rolled his eyes, leaning over Blaine to reach for his phone before stepping back toward the door. "See you later, Blaine."

"It's Mr. Anderson!" Blaine called to him, adding a faint, "Brat."

But Kurt was already gone, leaving Blaine alone with his dreadful, dreadful thoughts.


	15. Chapter 15

"Kurt? You okay?" Finn asked; noticing Kurt had been in the same spot for at least an hour.

"I'm clinically depressed." Kurt mumbled and continued to stare at the wall as he rocked himself back and forth in his father's rocking chair and listened to music.

"You look _silly_." Burt called from the other room, having just spent five minutes trying to get Kurt out of the chair.

"That's debatable."

Finn looked at Kurt in a perplexed fashion before deciding it was probably best not to read too much into it. Instead, he turned his ambitions toward coming up with ways to cheer him up.

"Wanna have a movie marathon?" Finn suggested. "I'll let you pick."

Kurt sighed dramatically. "I'm not really in the _mood_."

Finn was absolutely stumped until it hit him. "Don't you like cheesecake? I could try to make one… I don't really know how to but I saw Rachel Ray do it once on the Food Network so it can't be that hard."

Kurt smiled a bit at that. "It's fine, really."

Finn didn't seem too satisfied with that answer. "But I don't like it when you get all sad because then _I_ get all sad and when I get sad I really suck at video games."

"You _always_ suck at video games."

"Anyway, tell me what's wrong." His step brother prompted, and Kurt really wish he could.

It was about Blaine, as things often were as of late. It had only been a day since _The Kiss_ as Kurt has dubbed it in his mind, and his plans to have a totally romantic escapade with his chemistry teacher were so not panning out the way he wanted them to.

He remembered rushing home that afternoon, his lips still tingling as he drove home, not able to resist ghosting his finger over the place where Blaine's mouth had been mere minutes before. And god, it was a miracle he hadn't crashed the car because he could hardly see the road in front of him.

He knew it had been "really bad". And that it would probably be best to forget it ever happened. Because nothing could come of it, anyway.

_But that's not fair,_ Kurt had said.

He didn't just have some silly crush. He liked Blaine, properly liked him. Something about them just clicked. Everything fell into place effortlessly and he knew that he never wanted to go another day without seeing him.

But it was confusing, too. Because Kurt never pictured himself being that person. The one to sneak kisses in between classes with a _teacher_ , for Christ's sake. He left things like that to head cheerleaders and those students who stood underneath the bleachers during football games and passed around a blunt.

Kurt was none of those things. He wasn't popular, or rebellious, or even _foolish_ enough to pursue someone of authority.

But Blaine had pursued him first, that fact alone helping Kurt make sense of it all in his head.

It was a few hours later that he got a text from Mike.

**Mike:** Hey! So, I got the email from Mr. Anderson. And I don't mind tutoring you. When are you free?

Kurt wouldn't go as far as to call it a heart-break, but it was at least a heart sprain, or fissure. Because this is what he'd feared the most. Being avoided.

He felt like he was losing a friend, someone who he'd become incredibly close to without even meaning to. He'd have traded the kiss just for the chance to talk to Blaine without the formalities, or to have Blaine look at him without an undercurrent of guilt.

Overall, Kurt determined that kissing is nice unless it's not well-timed, then it totally sucks.

So when Finn asked what was wrong, Kurt simply said, "I just haven't been sleeping a lot lately." And his brother accepted that explanation without a shred of doubt.

* * *

"You okay?" Sebastian asked Blaine over dinner. "You seem preoccupied."

Blaine forced a smile. "I'm fine. I just have a little problem at work."

"It's not that Sylvester woman is it? I keep telling you to file a report of harassment."

Blaine shook his head. Funnily enough, Sue had been the last of his worries. She hadn't crossed his mind; in fact, the two hadn't had any sort of disagreement in weeks. His problem was a blue eyed boy that spoke in metaphors and didn't have a clear concept of the sinister side of the heart. And those were the worst kinds of people, Blaine was sure of. They lure you in with words and ill-placed smiles, all the while being oblivious to their power. They make it so easy to take advantage of them; turn you into a criminal.

Every time Blaine thought about it he felt like he was going to be sick so he tried to distance himself as much as possible. He needed to cut off all ties; quarantine the sickness inside of him and burn it.

Mike agreed to tutor Kurt and Blaine almost wondered why he hadn't arranged that in the beginning.

_Even back then,_ Blaine thought to himself, _He was always intriguing._

Blaine found himself rethinking everything.

People like Kurt Hummel were the worst kinds of people because they could destroy a whole person; a whole world, and emerge with nothing but a scratch.

* * *

Chemistry class became the most torturous experience that Kurt has ever had to endure. Okay, well it was always pretty torturous, but it was becoming downright unbearable. He simply tried not to look at Blaine, and when the two accidentally made eye contact on occasion Blaine would quickly look away, and Kurt would feel the need to sink into the floor beneath him and cease to exist.

Kurt blatantly disregarded the rules just so Blaine would at least acknowledge his existence. He'd text in class—not that he didn't before but he did it more excessively—he'd chew gum loudly, call out the answer, he'd even hold long-winded conversations with Stoner Brett, of all people. Anything to even get something more than a glance.

But none of it ever worked, and why would it?

It was that Friday as Kurt left the classroom after another day of successfully wreaking havoc that Blaine stopped him. "Hummel, stay after class."

Kurt's heart stopped. This was the moment. All of his juvenile behavior had finally paid off and Blaine would finally speak the words they'd both been feeling. He waited as the other students filed out of the classroom, and it seemed as if they couldn't leave soon enough. When the last one exited; Blaine turned to Kurt.

"You need to stop being so disruptive in my class." Blaine said in a warning tone.

"Am I disruptive?" Kurt asked, feigning innocence.

Blaine glared at Kurt. "I'm serious. Or else I'll have to write you up."

Kurt turned away, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. Blaine was reprimanding him like some child.. And here he was thinking this would be some grand, romantic moment. "Go ahead, then."

Blaine huffed in annoyance as the student turned away. "Kurt, look at me." And when Kurt ignored him he tried again; yelling this time. "Turn around, Kurt!"

Kurt slowly turned around; regarding Blaine with a downright poisonous gaze.

The teacher took a deep breath, trying not to lose his patience. "Look, I'm sorry for yelling." He said in a calmer voice. "But you're…frustrating, Kurt. You have no idea how frustrating you are."

"I don't mean to be…" Kurt said, looking so remorseful that Blaine almost regretted saying any of this to begin with.

Blaine sighed again. He couldn't let Kurt be manipulative and get to him. He tried again; in a much sterner tone. "Just…lose the attitude when I'm teaching, alright? No matter how… _friendly_ we were that's my job for the next year. To _teach_ you."

Kurt regarded Blaine with a downright bored expression. "Awesome. Can I go now?"

The teacher sighed. "Yes. Have a good-" He started to say but Kurt was already out of the door before he finished his sentence.

If Blaine had simply followed him around the corner he would have seen Kurt retreat into the boy's bathroom, lock himself in a stall, and start sobbing silently.

* * *

So, by the time it was Saturday Kurt figured that Blaine Anderson was stupid and wore too many bowties so he would forget all about him and go on a date with Chandler; who as far as Kurt knew didn't even own a single bowtie.

"Hey, bud, I needed a little help at the auto shop today if you wouldn't mind." Burt said.

"Can Finn do it? I'm gonna be busy."

"Doing what?" Burt asked in the way parents had of asking too many questions.

"Studying with Mercedes." Kurt lied with ease.

"Kay, kiddo. Be back before dinner." Burt said before heading to the other room.

Kurt spent about an hour and a half choosing what to wear, which was a little obsessive, even for him. He didn't want to show up in something too casual, but he didn't know whether going formal would impress Chandler or intimidate him. In the end, he settled on wearing the half sweater he got from Bob's a year ago. He figured Chandler would be too busy trying to figure out what the hell Kurt was wearing to even notice how formal or informal it was.

When he was done showering and moisturizing his phone buzzed.

**Chandler** : I'm coming to get you in about ten minutes. Your house is 157, right?

**Kurt:** Yeah. But don't ring the doorbell. Just stay in the car and text me when you're here.

**Chandler** : Oooo, so is this like, a secret?

**Kurt:** More or less.

**Chandler:** Rebel ;)

A _winky face_ , for Christ's sake. If Chandler was that suggestive during their date Kurt was sure he wouldn't make it through the evening.

* * *

Kurt would be lying if he said the car ride there wasn't one of the most nerve-wracking car rides he'd ever been through, second only to the time Finn drove 65 mph in a 35mph zone on his way to get the new iPad.

As skeptical as he was, the two of them never ran out of things to talk about and the ride seemed very short to the theater. Although this was only their second time meeting in person Kurt felt as if he knew him pretty well. Unlike some, Chandler never confused him. What you saw was what you got.

"Just warning you now, I'll probably start singing along." Chandler said as they pulled up in the parking lot.

"Oh my god, I do that too." Kurt said excitedly as they entered the theater. Chandler was like his long lost twin except the guy was always hopped up on caffeine or ecstasy maybe. He was still trying to figure out which it was.

After the production—which Kurt gave a C—they were headed to Chandler's car.

"Okay, so, favorite moments?" Kurt asked.

"Ummm, probably when that kid tripped onstage." Chandler answered, causing Kurt to laugh.

"That _was_ a highlight."

Chandler opened the car door for him, which was super nice. In fact, Chandler in general was just super nice. And really fun to be around.

Chandler treated Kurt like he was different, and not in the negative sense. He treated Kurt as if he was unique and special and it left him feeling bubbly, for lack of a better word. And lighter than air.

They talked and joked all the way to Kurt's house, and before letting Kurt walk out of the car Chandler grabbed his hand. He turned to see the blonde leaning forward.

And then Kurt realized that _this_ was it. The moment in the movies where the soon-to-be couple leaned in for the obligatory goodbye kiss. And so ignoring the fluttering in his stomach, he mirrored Chandler, closing his eyes and leaning forward.

And he waited and waited for the kiss to happen for a very tense moment before he realized both of them were too nervous to move forward. Instead they laughed.

"I'm sorry." They said at the same time, causing them to laugh even more.

"It's just that-"

"You're a lovely person but-"

"We're not-"

"This won't-"

They were talking over each other trying to explain when finally Chandler shushed him.

"Kurt Hummel, you are a wonderful. Inside and out. But I don't think we'll work out." Chandler admitted.

"That's a relief because I was thinking the same thing."

"We're just way too…similar. It's like, eerie."

"Oh my god, I feel the same way." Kurt added, and the two stared at each other for two seconds before laughing nervously again.

"But I really had fun tonight. And we should definitely do this again sometime."

"Agreed."

"Maybe with the occasional benefit or two…" Chandler added in a joking manner, not yet willing to give up his flirtatious charm.

Kurt rolled his eyes playfully. "Bye, Chandler. I'll talk to you later."

He pressed a quick kiss to the other boy's cheek before heading out of the car and into his house. And it wasn't until about midnight that Kurt finally settled into bed and the thought hit him.

He had spent the whole night comparing Chandler to Blaine.


	16. Chapter 16

"What do you do when a guy's being a jerk?" Kurt asked.

"You cut his balls off." Quinn answered calmly, flipping through their freshly printed sheet music as she learned her part.

Talking to Quinn was like flipping a coin; he never knew which side of her to expect.

"Assuming no violence is involved."

"Then you cut off his metaphorical balls." She looked up to see Kurt's confused expression she elaborated. "You hit him where it hurts."

Kurt made a mental note to never piss Quinn off lest it be the last thing he ever did.

Kurt and Quinn were in his room—he strategically waited until Finn and Rachel left for their movie date before inviting her over—rehearsing for their performance that was simply three days away. Normally music served as a welcome distraction, the cure to all of his problems. But this time working on the song only seemed to highlight his problems.

Blaine shouldn't matter to Kurt as much as he did. He remembered spending a majority of his time with Mercedes making fun of the kids in their high school; the dumb one's who would do anything for the attention of a specific someone. They'd dumb themselves down and dress differently and practically change who they were just to earn affection, and well, Kurt thought that was counterproductive—to be loved for something you're not.

But the point was Kurt wasn't moving on and it was like an out of body experience, because as much as he was annoying himself he couldn't do anything about it. Blaine had been downright rude, dismissing Kurt like that. His favorite thing about Blaine used to be that he never talked down to him, no matter what weird thing would come out of Kurt's mouth. And he said _a lot_ of weird things.

And most people had no problem acknowledging it; rolling their eyes at Kurt's opinion, giving him irritated glances, shutting him out entirely.

But it hurt coming from Blaine.

_Kurt, this isn't me negotiating with you…Lose the attitude…Grow up…_

It kept replaying in his head like a recording stuck on repeat and all Kurt wanted to do was scribble over each memory with permanent marker; drown them in ink blots until they were indiscernible.

"All guys are jerks." Quinn continued.

"Even me?" He asked.

"Even you." She confirmed. "It's in your DNA. It's probably a recessive gene but still."

Kurt realized that what she said was nearly a compliment, and almost said thank you. But he didn't because he wasn't quite sure.

* * *

"Finn tells me you're depressed." Puck said as he joined Kurt's side walking down the hallway.

Kurt was going to buy Finn a muzzle. "What do you want, Noah?"

"To cheer you up." Puck answered.

"For the last time I'm not-"

"I don't mean in that way." Puck said. "Unless you..." One look from Kurt cut off that train of thought. "Anyway, you should skip with me."

"Like down the hallway?"

"No, I mean cut class, smartass."

Kurt couldn't deny that the thought of skipping piqued his interest. He had always wanted to be one of those cool kids who occasional just didn't show up for class, but he never quite had the guts to do it by himself, nor the popularity to be invited by someone else.

"I can't, I have a huge test in…" He had a huge test in _chemistry_. "Where would we be going?"

"It's a surprise." Puck replied, grinning from ear to ear. "Come on, Hummel. Live a little."

And Kurt realized his options were angsting in chemistry class versus going on a possibly illegal endeavor with Noah Puckerman. The choice was obvious.

"Can we stop at the Lima bean first? I haven't been properly caffeinated in days."

"Whatever. It's your gas money."

* * *

"You did _what_?" Cooper asked, swatting the stylists away as he went to a private corner to hear Blaine's voice better.

"I kissed him."

Blaine hadn't said it outloud until just then. And he thought somehow hearing it verbalized would make it sound like less than it was; diminish its meaning until it was nothing but a series of abstract letters. But it sounded just as bad out loud as it did in his head, if not worse.

"I'm all for equal opportunity when it comes to getting it on, but can't you get fired?"

"Something like that."

"But he's keeping his mouth shut, right? So you're golden." Cooper said like it was the simplest thing in the world. "Listen, in the biz there's an _insane_ amount of jailbait. It's like, I can't even walk two feet without some teenager throwing themselves at me. And have I slipped up once or twice? You bet. But shit happens."

Blaine scoffed, still amazed after all these years at Cooper's lack of morals. He knew Santana would have been better to go to; would have offered more realistic advice, but he didn't know if he could stand to be judged. He already felt like turning himself in, and it had only been a kiss.

"How are you not freaking out?" Blaine asked. "I need to know what to do."

"My advice? Get his number, take out a motel room, and-"

"Jesus, Coop!" Blaine was growing more and more frustrated. "This isn't a joke, alright?"

"You sound grumpy. Did you forget to take your gummy vitamins?"

"I'm hanging up."

"Wait!" Cooper said. "Um…if it's stressing you out so much why don't you just forget about it?"

"What?"

"Pretend it never happened." Cooper said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Like, one time I hit this guy's car, but no one saw it happen so I drove away and never talked about it."

"That's _terrible_. You're terrible." Blaine said, the story particularly nerve-wracking considering he was on the road at that moment.

"But you can bet your ass I didn't get sued." Cooper said. "Everyone wins."

"Except for the owner of the car."

"Whatever. Listen, I gotta go. Memorizing lines." Cooper said.

"But it's a commercial. How many lines could you _possibly-"_ Cooper hung up before Blaine could finish his sentence.

And once again Blaine was left with nothing but useless advice and his thoughts as he pulled up to his parking spot before heading into the building.

And with his luck he had to pass him. The aforementioned who started all of this trouble to begin with. The definition of temptation.

He was leaned against his locker, talking idly to one of his friends from glee club; the girl who always dressed in black. Completely unaware that Blaine was staring.

Staring being an understatement. Blaine thought jeans that tight were a safety hazard.

"You okay, Anderson?" asked a voice, and Blaine looked to see Will Schuester was looking at him in concern.

Blaine cleared his throat. "Uh…yeah. Didn't get much sleep last night."

"Well, they have fresh coffee in the teacher's lounge. I was just heading there." Will said good-naturedly, and even though Blaine hated the coffee from there he needed to get away and clear his head.

The rest of his day was moderately manageable, up until it was time to teach his seventh period junior chemistry class.

He had to learn to let go of things.

That was his biggest problem growing up. He carried things around with him. He still remembered when he got his first F in AP European History, or that time in third grade when a boy pushed him down during recess and he cried and cried, or the time in kindergarten when his Aunt Angela died but he didn't cry because he didn't understand what exactly dying meant.

And he could feel himself growing heavier and heavier with each passing day, carrying more and more, and he knew one day he'd sink straight through the ground and he wasn't quite sure whether it would be worth the effort to even try and find him.

As his students filed into the classroom he didn't even bother looking at the door, waiting for Kurt to walk in. He simply went straight to the board, writing the day's objective in big letters.

It was only ten minutes into the class that he dared to glance at the fifth chair in the second row, only to discover it wasn't occupied.

_But I saw him this morning,_ Blaine thought. But then he simply dropped it. He let it go. He kept teaching and didn't even dwell on it a moment longer.

And it was the best feeling in the world.

* * *

"Why did I agree to this?" Kurt asked breathlessly as he trailed after Puck, walking uphill for what felt like an hour but could only have been two minutes.

"Because you wanted to know what it was like to be a bad ass." Puck answered. "Like the Puckasaurus."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Right."

"Trust me. Chicks dig a bad boy." Puck assured him.

"I'm sure girls everywhere are clamoring for their seven minutes in heaven with the Puckasaurus." Kurt said sarcastically.

"Exactly. Now you're getting it."

Kurt continued walking up the inclined ground next to Puck, the two of them sinking into a companionable silence; the only sounds to be heard was the shuffling of Kurt's expensive snow boots as they pushed through the snow.

"What's at the top of this hill?" Kurt asked, his stamina reflecting on the lack of effort he put forth in his eleven years of gym class.

"Stop asking so many questions." Puck responded, and then they were at the top of the hill and Kurt stared at two large garbage can lids.

"I don't understand." Kurt said, before making the connection. "I'm not helping you pick up trash for community service, am I? Because this seems like _exactly_ the sort of thing they'd make juvenile deli-"

Puck shook his head in disbelief, interrupting him, "You sit on them." He sat on one to demonstrate. "Now you go."

"Why am I…" But Puck was already grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him down so he landed on one of them. "Oh. Wait, we're not going down this-" And before he could finish protesting Puck had given him a firm push and he was going down, down, down, everything blurring past him in a rush of colors; the wind blowing in his face; and the clear space was echoing with the sounds of his screams of bloody murder.

His most prevalent thought was the following: _Life is shit and then you die._

And then he landed face first in the snow with a soft 'plop' and he just sort of laid there for a moment and briefly wondered if this was hell and if it _finally_ froze over.

Then a few seconds later Puck landed right next to him, _laughing_ like he hadn't nearly committed homicide.

"You alright there, princess?"

"M'not breathing." Kurt answered, not having made any attempt to get up.

And really, it should have ended there. But before he knew it he and Puck were climbing back up the hill. Then he went again. And again. And after the fourth time he kept his blood curdling screams to a minimum and it was actually sort of..fun?

He quickly discovered that if he closed his eyes while sledding down the hill it almost felt like flying. Or falling. He wasn't sure which. But he liked the sense of freedom that came with it, and in those moments he thought of nothing but the way the cold wind nipped at the tip of his ears and filled his lungs and made him feel as if he could go on like that forever and still turn out okay.

* * *

The next day people were none the wiser. Kurt was expecting to be called into the principal's office and asked why he hadn't attended the second half of classes yesterday, but McKinley's school system was so disorganized that hardly anyone noticed.

"Welcome back, Mr. Hummel." Blaine said as way of greeting when Kurt entered the classroom and _oh_ , wait a minute. He acknowledged him. He actually managed to notice the fact that Kurt existed.

And he was also seemingly the only one who noticed Kurt's unscheduled absence the day prior.

"I have good news and bad news." Blaine announced to the class. "Good news is that I stayed up grading all of your tests because that's how much I _care_." He said with a faux-cheeriness, causing a mixed response of nervous laughter and eye-rolling.

"Bad news is that the class average is a sixty-seven. Not what I was expecting." He suddenly turned to Kurt. "Oh, that reminds me. Esther; Kurt, you two still have to take the test. And since you both had an extra day to study I'm sure your grades will be _more_ than satisfactory."

Blaine was totally being passive aggressive and Kurt would have called him out on it had the two been in private. Also, he was too busy freaking out over the fact that he totally forgot to study for that blasted test and maybe that would be fine had he not skipped his last tutoring session with Mike.

"Can I have an extra day?" Esther requested. "I was at a funeral yesterday. Still mourning."

"Take as long as you need." Blaine said, waving it off. "How about you, Kurt? Where were you yesterday?"

Kurt swore he'd burn that whole classroom down along with everyone in it if this turned into the Spanish Inquisition. "Doctor's appointment." He mumbled, and now he couldn't even ask for an extra day because nothing could compare to a freaking _funeral_ and he'd just sound like a dick.

_Thanks a fucking lot, Esther,_ He thought.

Blaine didn't even challenge the notion like Kurt was expecting him to. He didn't fall for it either, features falling in concern and asking Kurt, "You're okay, right?" like Kurt also expected. Blaine did something he rarely ever did: he dropped the subject and moved on.

"So I'll be seeing you after school to make this up?" Blaine asked, and Kurt had no choice but to nod.

"Great. You can report to the library." Blaine said, before continuing lecturing the rest of the class on proper study habits.

And Kurt knew exactly what he was doing. Making sure they were in public as to avoid any conversation about what they _really_ needed to talk about.

_There's nothing to talk about,_ Kurt reminded himself, _He had made himself pretty clear._

But could Kurt really give up like that, without even putting up some sort of fight?

And the answer was yes. Because he knew life wasn't like the movies and even if it were he sure wasn't the main character. He was that minor character that only made a brief appearance, the clerk at the shop or the pedestrian walking their dog. Nothing special. People like that didn't save the day. They didn't get their wishes granted. They simply exist, and then eventually they stop doing that, too.

* * *

"How'd you do on the test?" Mike asked as they made their way to glee club the next evening.

"Horribly." Kurt answered.

"Maybe if you actually showed up for tutoring." Mike pointed out.

"I still would have failed." Kurt assured him. "We're arguing the difference between a 50 and a 55."

Mike's eyes widened. "I didn't know grades could actually go that low."

The conversation was really depressing him so he was glad when Mr. Schue cut in with his usual speech that Kurt always had the distinct pleasure of tuning out.

"Alright guys, settle down. Today we finally conquer our long awaited challenge: duets." Will said, and was met by a ridiculous amount of enthusiasm although he said/did nothing significant to warrant that reaction.

"Who would like to volunteer to go first?" Mr. Schue asked, and Rachel's, Kurt's, and Mercedes' hands all shot up before he even finished his sentence, the three of them taking turns to glare at the other.

"Bad move." Quinn whispered, gently guiding Kurt's hand back down. "Being last gives you the opportunity to learn from everyone else's mistakes and sufficiently destroy the competition and/or make them cry."

It was in these brief moments that Kurt remembered Quinn was once the ruthless Cheerio captain who led a whole squad to victory on several occasions.

They sat through a selection of interesting duets, all good but none of them were great. Most involved flashy costuming, or electric guitars, or powerhouse vocals. So it came as a slight surprise when the only thing Kurt and Quinn set up were two chairs and all Quinn held was an acoustic guitar.

As she strummed out the simple enough chords, Kurt took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He let the music surround him and felt himself slip into performance mode.

He waited, and waited until it was his time, and then he opened his mouth and sung.

* * *

_When you were here before, I couldn't look you in the eye. You're just like an angel. Your skin makes me cry._

Blaine was heading to the front office to drop off papers for a colleague when he heard the melodic voice, a voice he recognized almost instantly. He realized he was walking past the room where glee club was usually held, and that the door was cracked.

The smartest thing to do would have been leave and give it up. He had been so _good_ lately when it came to that and would it honestly be worth it?

_You float like a feather..In a beautiful world. I wish I was special. You're so very special._

Another voice, petite in tenacity but loaded with emotion sang the next line, and that's when Blaine decided it wouldn't hurt to listen in. After all, it wasn't just Kurt singing.

_But I'm a creep. I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I do not belong here…_

And there it was again, Kurt's lyrical voice singing words too close to what Blaine had come to know as true. But he couldn't bring himself to turn away, because he had never heard him sing before. They spent so much time talking about Glee club yet Blaine had never heard Kurt so much as hum a bar.

_I don't care if it hurts. I want to have control. I want a perfect body. I want a perfect soul,_ the cheerleader sang _._ And it was that lyric that jolted him out of the moment. He did have control. And that meant walking away.

So Blaine willed himself to leave before the two even finished singing, he missed the applause and the cheers from the fellow glee clubbers, he missed an easily excited Will Schuester declaring, "I think we have our winners!", he didn't quite catch the way Kurt's face beamed and Quinn smiled knowingly.

And that's because that wasn't his world. He didn't belong. He was a disruption in Kurt's life, a brief detour, and Kurt was the same to him.

And finally realizing that made it that much easier to keep away.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you for the support. I'm glad you all like it so far. We've officially reached the half-way point of this thing so thank you for sticking around for so long. And enjoy!

"Hello, Mr. Hummel. Kurt." Blaine said to each individual as they entered the classroom.

"Call me Burt." The man said, extending his hand to shake Blaine's. His hand shake was firm and assured, his hands rough and calloused. Whereas Kurt was delicate, Burt Hummel was all rough edges. It was difficult to see the relation.

Kurt stood just behind his father, using the man as a shield between him and Blaine. And well, could one blame him? Kurt had every right to want to avoid him.

"You two can have a seat right there." He gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk.

He pulled up Kurt's file on his computer and went straight to his grade book. Burt had requested the meeting out of concern for Kurt's dropping grades and Blaine had no choice but to meet his demand.

"He _was_ improving. But then his grades started declining about a week ago." Blaine explained, not looking at Kurt and just addressing his father.

"So, what do you think would be the best thing for him?" Burt asked.

"I'm right here. And I think I'm capable of deciding what's best for me." Kurt protested, but one stern look from Burt shut him up instantly.

Although they had no resemblance Blaine could definitely tell that Burt was Kurt's father by the way they communicated just in glances, and how even harsh actions were delivered with undercurrents of fondness. Plus, the kid's dad would probably be the only person ever capable of silencing him.

"Maybe he's not prioritizing." Blaine suggested, ignoring the warning glares that Kurt was shooting his way. "Have you tried revoking privileges? I've found that a reward system improves grades dramatically."

"He's Hitler." Kurt said in disbelief. "You're discussing parenting methods with _Hitler_."

Kurt listened to them continue to carry on as if he wasn't in the room, and zoned out for the rest of the meeting. It was too early in the morning for this.

Couldn't Blaine have made up some excuse to cancel the meeting? Honestly, he'd made it _very clear_ that he wanted nothing to do with Kurt and Kurt had made it _very clear_ that he thought Blaine wasn't worth the gum on the bottom of his shoe.

The best thing for Blaine Anderson to do would be to leave Kurt alone. And allowing a meeting to transpire was the opposite of that.

Or maybe Kurt was reading too much into it and Blaine was just doing his job.

 _No matter how_ … _ **friendly**_ _we were that's my job for the next year. To teach you._

He just hoped his dad didn't have some sort of sixth sense and pick up on the fact that there was something slightly off about the way Blaine looked at Kurt or the way Kurt would try and fail to avoid his gaze.

It had been about two weeks since that conversation and Kurt thought he'd forget about all of it. The kindness and the laughter and that stupid, stupid kiss because it obviously meant nothing and it was a Very Big Mistake.

Except mistakes are things one should regret and Kurt didn't regret anything. Not quite yet.

Before Kurt knew it the meeting was over and his father was getting ready to leave. There was still fifteen minutes before homeroom. His dad said "we'll talk later" in that voice that fathers sometimes used when they wanted to sound threatening.

And then he left and Blaine and Kurt were alone for the first time in weeks.

"He seems nice." Blaine said genially, keeping a distance.

"I hate you." Kurt said calmly. Not in that way he had of saying it when he was moody or being playful but a legitimate fire kindled under his words.

Blaine looked at Kurt curiously, as if he were speaking a foreign language that was hard to place. "I'm sorry?"

"I hate you." Kurt repeated. "And I want you to stay away from me."

Blaine didn't even flinch. "What?"

Kurt didn't know what game Blaine was playing at but he thought it was awfully stupid and needed to stop that instant.

"I get it. You don't have feelings for me. You only kissed me because you were lonely and I happened to be there." It wasn't that Blaine was older, or that he was his teacher, or any of the stuff that most people would disapprove of. It was the fact that Blaine was _using_ him that made Kurt disgusted.

"Whoa. Slow down. I did _what_?" Blaine asked, looking genuinely shocked. And he really was an excellent actor. Kurt thought he could really have a career in it.

"Wow. Okay." Kurt said, amazed. "Play dumb. That's fine by me."

Blaine looked genuinely worried. "I'm not following..."

"We _kissed_." Kurt said, so furious he was almost shaking. "In this classroom. And then afterward you were this huge jerk about it and started ignoring me."

"Kurt, you're a nice guy, really, but you're not…um, right for me?" Blaine offered up as nicely as possible, letting him down gently. "I'm flattered that you um…think of me in that way, but it's highly inappropriate and-"

"Oh, _cut the crap_!"

"Lower your voice.." Blaine said, still calm and feigning ignorance.

"Stop that. Stop acting as if _I'm_ the crazy one." Kurt said, because for a split moment he was actually starting to believe it.

"Well maybe it's because you _are_. I think…I think your imagination has gotten the better of you." Blaine said. "Have you been having trouble at home? Because I'm sure Miss Pillsbury is _more_ than willing to-""

Kurt shook his head in disbelief. "Fuck you."

Blaine's eyes widened. "You can't talk to me like-"

"I'll talk to you _however I like_." Kurt countered, simply aiming to get a rise out of him now. He didn't like how comfortable the teacher looked, how easily the lies rolled off his tongue. He'd rather Blaine yell back then hide behind falsehoods. "Especially if you're going to go on acting like you're not some _perverted creep_."

A lull in the conversation. A moment of stunned silence.

Regret hit Kurt like a freight train. The moment he said those words he realized he shouldn't have. He was playing on Blaine's insecurities, no better than a common bully in the school's corridors.

For a split second Blaine looked as if he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. But he didn't. He sat there and looked at Kurt as if he'd been slapped in the face.

"I didn't mean that." Kurt said quietly. "There's nothing wrong with...with wanting something." Because Kurt wanted things too; he yearned for tall buildings and asphalt and the white noise of the city; he yearned for blinding stage lights and loud applause; he yearned for the person right in front of him.

"I did." Blaine said, seemingly out of the blue.

"What?"

"I did have feelings for you." Blaine explained. "I still do. And that's the problem."

Kurt took that in and processed it, letting it swirl around in his brain so he could make some sense of it and respond adequately. He came up with this:

"I miss you."

"I miss you too."

And finally Kurt understood what it meant to miss someone who wasn't yours to miss.

"Kurt, had things been different I would…be _honored_ to do this. The right way. With dates and holding hands in the hallway; the whole nine yards. Because that's what you deserve." Blaine started explaining, something he knew he should have done weeks ago. "But, you're a smart guy. So you understand why that's not possible, don't you?"

"Because of your guilt complex?"

Blaine couldn't help but laugh. "Among other things."

"You're strange." Kurt said, but didn't provide any explanation. What he really meant was that Blaine was built differently; equipped with a heart that spent so much time exporting love that it never learned how to take it in.

"Says the guy wearing the beetle broach." Blaine teased, and Kurt hadn't realized that he even missed the banter.

"It's a political statement."

"Of course it is."

"Sorry for snapping before." Kurt said, because it had been weighing heavily on his mind.

"That's okay." Blaine said. " Plus, you're hot when you're angry."

Kurt grew flustered, looking down bashfully. "So, is this like, honesty hour?"

Blaine shrugged. "No, I think that was just me flirting with you."

"Oh, alright." Kurt said, almost wanting to laugh at the emotional roller coaster that was the few minutes of his life. "Thanks for clearing that up."

"Not a problem."

There was a voice in the back of Blaine's head screaming at him to stop being such an idiot, but what good came of listening to it? What did he gain?

His life was one constant "what if?" circling around over and over again. And nothing amounted of it. He was tired of wondering. He wanted to know for certain.

"So, was all of this a one-time thing?" Kurt asked.

"Do you want it to be?"

"No."

"Then what do you want it to be?" Blaine asked him, because he was certain of what he wanted, but none of that mattered if Kurt didn't want it too.

"More than it is now."

Blaine's eyes closed at Kurt's words and he tried to talk sensibly to himself, but it was no use. "I have a boyfriend." He murmured, already moving closer to Kurt again.

"That you don't really love anymore..." Kurt reminded him, allowing him to edge closer.

"He's still my boyfriend." He replied, knowing that what he was about to do was wrong.

"And isn't that a tragedy?"

Blaine's mouth twitched at the corners in the tiniest of laughs before he gulped at how close Kurt was. He just felt like Kurt was everywhere. "You're my student." He whispered, wondering if listing the reasons out loud would be enough to stop it from happening.

"And you're my teacher." Kurt answered back, in such a matter-of-fact way that the term lost its meaning. It was a combination of symbols that translated to a series of sounds that led to what? A dead end. It meant _nothing_. They meant _nothing_. And so they closed the gap, sinking into a shared oblivion.

Kurt was floating, floating, floating; he felt so light on his feet that he briefly wondered if he were physically there. He was coasting near the edge of something unfamiliar yet warm and inviting. And arms wrapped around him and pulled him closer; and he could feel the heart-beat of another through thin layers of cotton.

And _how odd_ , Kurt thought when he recognized the rhythm. He hadn't known it was possible for two hearts to beat as one.

It was different than the first time. Less frantic; more tentative and even somewhat delicate. Well, as delicate as it got when you were stealing kisses five minutes before homeroom was supposed to start.

When the warning bell rang Kurt reluctantly backed away, lips barely brushing Blaine's. "I have to go."

Blaine nodded slightly, kissing him once, twice, three times before he could bring himself to pull away. "Before you go…can I have your number?"

Kurt smiled teasingly. "I don't appreciate being lead on, you know." He reached into Blaine's pocket and pulled out the teacher's phone anyhow, entering in his number.

"How do I know you're not leading _me_ on?" Blaine asked.

"Because I'm not that cruel."

"Somehow I doubt that."

Kurt didn't respond to that, simply putting Blaine's phone back into the teacher's pocket before starting to walk out of the classroom. "I assume I'll see you at tutoring Wednesday?" He asked.

"Yeah." Blaine answered, grinning a bit. "See you at tutoring."

"Bye, Blaine." Kurt said, almost smugly before walking out of the classroom.

It was as if the brat knew things would turn out like this all along.


	18. Chapter 18

 

“That’s not trash, Finn!” Kurt yelled, grabbing a pile of magazines away from his grubby, oversized hands.

“You’ve read these a bunch of times.” Finn argued. “Plus you threw away my pizza box collection. Not cool, dude.”

“Excuse me for thinking the pile of pizza boxes in the corner of your room was _garbage_.” Kurt remarked bitingly.

“Boys, less talking, more cleaning.” said Carole, walking between the two of them to open the cupboard and retrieve Windex.

Spring was arriving in a few weeks and apparently that meant spring cleaning. Their first spring cleaning as a family in their new home.

            

* * *

 

Burt couldn’t clean to save his life, so it was often Kurt who tidied up. In the early years his father objected, telling Kurt that he should be out hanging with friends and that he could handle everything just fine, but Kurt knew better. Sure, he lost a mother, and that was tragic, but Burt had lost the love of his life. The person he spent years looking for; gone. If he had blinked, he would have missed her.

Kurt never minded cleaning. It was busy-work. It didn’t give him time to think too much.

Burt remembered one particular morning years ago when Kurt was around twelve. He woke up at five in the morning to the sounds of running water and followed it all the way to the bathroom, surprised to see Kurt awake. His son was wearing a familiar pair of ill-fitting rubber gloves that Burt knew didn’t belong to either of them, armed with a spray bottle in one hand and a sponge in the other. He was scrubbing harshly at the shower walls.

The sight would have been comical if it weren’t for the tears streaming down his face.

“Bud?” Burt asked, voice quiet and attentive as he entered the bathroom. “What are you doing up so early?”

“I figured the bathroom needed cleaning.”

“Kurt, you don’t have to.” Burt said. “I’ll finish up. Go back to sleep.”

He attempted to take the spray bottle from Kurt’s grasp but the young boy simply clutched it tighter as if it were a life-line.

“I saw her.” Kurt said. “I…I dreamed about her, I mean. Because she wasn’t really there, was she? Because she’s gone. And she’s not coming back.”

Kurt dropped the bottle then, letting it land on the tile floor with a loud _clunk_. The sponge followed soon after, sliding across the tile and leaving a sudsy path.

And then his face was buried in Burt’s chest and he was sobbing; something his father hadn’t seen him do in in over a year. Because Kurt had been _afraid_. Afraid to break down in front of his father because he needed to stay strong enough for the both of them.

Suffice to say, Burt started learning how to clean, figuring that grieving was no excuse to not take care of his kid.

 

Years later he rolled his eyes fondly at Finn and Kurt’s loud banter, using the back door to take out the trash. Spring cleaning had been something he avoided ever since his wife died, but he found a warm comfort in returning to the old habit. It was moments like this when he finally felt himself returning to normal. He and Kurt had been a family on their own for so long that he nearly forgot what normal felt like.

 “Dad? Dad. You’re staring. It’s weird.” Kurt noted, letting go of the box he was carrying from the garage and accidently dropping it on Finn’s foot, causing the aforementioned to curse loudly. “Oops.”

Burt just laughed, shaking his head  and going back to taking out the garbage.

Spring was finally coming. And he could tell it was going to be a great season for all of them.

 

* * *

 

“And the green is for..?” Blaine asked, walking alongside Kurt in the hallway as they both headed to their respective destinations.

“It’s St. Patrick’s Day, remember?” Kurt noted. “The celebration of your people.”

“I’m not Irish.”

“I meant the leprechauns.”

Blaine thought of a million ways to wipe the smug expression right off of Kurt’s face but he knew all of them involved them not being in public.

“I’m not short.” Blaine mumbled. “It’s those boots you insist on wearing.”

“You’re _short_.” Kurt said. “And you’ve just passed your classroom.”

Blaine stopped walking, realizing Kurt had been right. He would have said good bye but he figured that would have drawn attention to an already odd situation, so he turned around and walked in the opposite direction.

Kurt confused him for a number of reasons. One of the most prevalent being that he wasn’t quite sure what they were to each other. It had been a few weeks since they exchanged numbers, but not much had changed between them. Kurt still showed up for tutoring, and Blaine still tried to teach him despite Kurt’s uncanny way of straying off topic.

The only difference seemed to be the occasional breaks to make out. Which was pretty awesome.

But it seemed that they were both tip-toeing around the obvious. Neither of them were willing to bring it up because it might ruin things.

Because he liked Kurt. A lot. Emotionally more than anything—although he would be the first to admit to being quite fond of the physical aspect. But even the mere _idea_ of pursuing a relationship was ridiculous. Kurt had his own life, and Blaine had Sebastian.

Which also brought up the topic of cheating. Which was what Blaine was doing. Another thing the two of them liked to avoid discussing.

And that was hard considering they talked to each other plenty. Kurt was incredibly long-winded for someone with his lung size and Blaine was quickly realizing that he was very talkative when around someone who actually understood him. But as much as they talked, they never really talked about themselves, or each other, or the fact that whatever _they_ were probably wasn’t going to last.

The beauty was in the futility.

Every time they kissed it was like an improbable gamble, and he knew one day their good fortune would run out. And for some reason that was okay. It was brilliant.

He rather miss someone as opposed to not having known them at all.

But when he wasn’t mulling these things over he was teaching, and it was in the middle of doing so that his phone buzzed. He didn’t even need to look to know who it was.

“You guys can answer questions one through twelve on page 236 and we’ll go over them in ten minutes.” He said to his freshman class before reading the message.

**Kurt:** _Space travel or sea exploration?_

Blaine rolled his eyes but responded.

**Blaine:** _Aren’t you supposed to be in class?_

**Kurt:** _Something like that._

This happened at least a few times a day. Kurt would text him with some ridiculously random question and Blaine would resist answering for as long as humanely possible until he found himself playing right into Kurt’s dumb, well-moisturized hands.

**Blaine:** _Sea exploration._

**Kurt:** _Why?_

 **Blaine:** _Because how could we possibly understand other worlds if we haven’t finished exploring our own?_

The answer seemed to satisfy Kurt because he didn’t answer quickly with a condescending quip like he usually did. It was a full two minutes later before he responded.

**Kurt:** _You, my dear, should have been a philosopher. You’re wasting your talent._

**Blaine:** _Pay attention in class._

 **Kurt:** _No._

**Blaine:** _And why not?_

**Kurt:** _Because we’re having more fun, aren’t we?_

And it was times like this that his insanity served to keep his responsibility in check, god forbid he decided to be a good influence for once.

**Blaine:** _I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to talk for a bit longer._

And he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to grow fonder of Kurt each day. And he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to drive towards a brick wall at full spend; enjoying the ride while already knowing how it was going to end.

He wished he wasn’t so tender-hearted.

            

* * *

 

“Who’s that?” Mercedes asked, leaning over to see his phone screen as Kurt protectively held it to his chest.

“Quinn.” Kurt lied. “We’re talking about ways to perfect our act for Regionals.”

“Yeah, sure.” Mercedes said, dismissing it. “Anyway, Rachel’s having another kickback. And she wants you to bring over your copy of _Casa Blanca_ because of some stupid bet she has with…”

Kurt nodded absently as she continued to talk, simply glad she believed him so easily. Or rather that she didn’t but decided not to pursue it any further. Because, as much as he loved Mercedes, he knew she’d freak. She was a God-fearing person, and just the thought of Kurt having some sort of affair with a teacher would indisputably test her open-mindedness.

Not that “affair” was the right word. It suggested that something of an adult nature was happening, which was pretty far from the truth. He knew if people were to find out about him and Blaine their first image would be of Kurt in a compromising position in a class room, which he thought of as pretty irresponsible not to mention downright _unsanitary._ Public schools were riddled with pathogens.

A classroom at McKinley probably didn’t even pass the health laws dictated by the state of Ohio, and wouldn’t really make the appropriate backdrop for some sort of steamy escapade in the scene of some cheesy Rom-Com.

Kurt would have called it a relationship but that meant long-term commitment and he knew it would freak Blaine out, and he was already walking a thin line with him.

He supposed it could be called an agreement, as formal as that sounded. They were friends, Blaine taught him Chemistry, Kurt taught him pretty much everything else worth knowing—fashion, literature, the best place to get hair product—and if sometimes that ended in mouth-to-mouth contact then it was a very fortunate accident.

Except he knew there was way more to it than that.

And he knew he was being ungrateful. Because at least Blaine was talking to him again. And recognizing the fact that something happened—was still happening— between them. And at least he responded to his texts.

Which brought him to another thing. On top of being charming and smart and sweet and attractive Blaine was a great texter, which was not something to be taken lightly in this day and age. And there was no way in hell that it was fair for one person to possess so many great qualities and still be taken.

Because he _was_ still with Sebastian. And Kurt would have never guessed that there’d be a time in his life where he’d be the equivalent of a god damn mistress but he supposed there was a first time for everything.

But he liked Blaine’s smile. That wasn’t enough of a reason to want to risk so much for one person, but his smile was the gateway to everything else and it was at its best when directed toward Kurt.

If Kurt wouldn’t be able to count their relationship in years—it was an unreliable unit of time and he wasn’t even sure if they’d reach a year at all— he figured he could count it in the amount of times he made Blaine smile. And that would be good enough.

 

* * *

 

It was a strange hue of blue at the edges, growing darker and darker the closer one got toward the center, which leaned more toward a deep shade of purple. It was small and silent, but it seemed to be shouting out to him.

Blaine finally looked up from the textbook and Kurt tried his best to make it look like he was staring at the wall behind him and not at the bruise on Blaine’s left cheek.

Blaine seemed to notice Kurt staring and seemingly didn’t know why until he remembered. “Oh, I sort of…broke up with Sebastian. And he threw a shoe at me.” His teacher explained, laughing a bit. “Not really anything worthy of a Lifetime movie.”

Kurt laughed nervously too, mostly in relief. “Good. Well, I don’t mean _good_ but I thought…anyway. Are you okay?”

Blaine paused for a moment, faltering in what seemed to be systematic movements before he nodded. "I am. Yeah. I thought it would be harder than this. I don't love him. I don't even _like_ him. But I'm okay. I feel... Relieved. Like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders."

The longer Blaine talked the more Kurt realized he was trying to convince himself more than anything.

"That's great. I'm glad. One less thing to worry about, right?" Kurt looked down at the papers in his hand to avoid meeting Blaine's gaze.

His mind was reeling with speculation. He felt guilty. From the sounds of it the break up was inevitable, and it was even a good thing. But he couldn't help but feel that he sped the process along. Yet wasn’t that narcissistic? To think that Blaine ended a relation with the love of his life for some kid in high school?

“Right.” Blaine answered after a while and he left it at that. Leaving Kurt wondering and in the dark as always.

The rest of their session was strictly business, no kissing or flirting or even talking, and Kurt was starting to wonder if this was it. The final day he had been dreading for weeks. If he had known he would have appreciated it that much more but how could he have had any idea?

When time ran out he turned around and packed up his books to leave before he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He turned around and Blaine’s lips met with his own in a brief, chaste kiss. “We’ll talk later tonight?” He asked, hopeful.

Kurt grinned, not being able to contain his absolute giddiness. “Yeah. Later.”

He was just glad there would even be a future for them at all.

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

"I can shooow you the wooooorld." Chandler sang, making Kurt actually roll his eyes at the webcam.

"Chandler."

"Shining, shimmering, spleeeendid."

"I swear to god-"

"Tell me, Princess, now when did you last let your gaaaay decide."

"I won't hesitate to block you."

The two had been going back and forth for about fifteen minutes because Kurt wasn't going along with one of Chandler's schemes. Chandler was fun to talk to and Kurt was glad they'd kept in touch, considering it was awesome to finally have a gay friend  _his age_ that he could go to with certain questions and problems and concerns; a gay friend who seemed to be more worldly than Kurt and have way more experience. But this experience often lead to him trying to coerce Kurt into trying something new and, more often than not, dangerous.

"You have to. It's a rite of passage."

"Right. So you're telling me all the gay kids in Ohio have been to Scandals?"

"Only the really cool ones." Chandler confirmed. "Come on, it'll be fun. I need you."

"And why is that?"

"Because guys  _love_ baby gays like you."

Kurt actually had no retort, looking at Chandler's smug face in mild offense but even more confusion. "…What did you just call me?"

"A baby gay. You know, you've got that whole awkward penguin thing about you. It's endearing." Chandler explained like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"No comment." Kurt decided on saying. "Plus, I'm not looking for a…a one night stand, or whatever."

Chandler snorted. "Who said anything about you? I'm doing this for me."

"I'm not following…"

"You know how in the movies a guy will use a cute puppy to get the attention of the girl they like?"

"So…I'm your puppy?" Kurt asked.

"More or less."

"No."

" _Kurt_."

"Not happening."

Chandler sighed. "I didn't want it to come to this…but I have something of yours." And Kurt only saw the flicker of light bouncing off of what might have been something shiny before he gasped.

"Is that my fucking watch?"

"Now, I promise it'll remain in one piece if you come with me."

Kurt narrowed his eyes at Chandler but didn't bother to argue with him anymore.

"Have you come to a decision?"

Kurt let out a defeated sigh. "This weekend. Seven o'clock. Wear anything closely resembling my outfit and the deal is off."

* * *

"We're what?" Blaine asked, amused.

"I'm pretty sure I said it clearly the first time." Kurt said, so serious Blaine thought he might have a stroke if anyone suggested otherwise..

Blaine laughed, not looking away from his computer screen. "Did you? I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention." He could feel Kurt glaring at him, recognized the distinct tingle it sent up his spine whenever he did.

"You think you're so funny." Kurt mumbled and Blaine didn't even have to look, he could practically hear the pout in his voice.

The truth was Blaine was stalling. This was something he'd been contemplating for weeks. On the one hand, in any other circumstance he'd love to consider the two of them to be "dating", yet on the other hand every step closer to Kurt was a step closer to disaster.

"I uh…I guess? If that's what you want to call it." Blaine said after a while. Kurt seemed satisfied with that answer, knowing it was all the confirmation he would get on the subject.

"I think this news constitutes a break, don't you?" Kurt asked, although really not waiting for Blaine's agreement at all.

"We just started fifteen minutes ago."

"So we'll have a fifteen minute break to balance it out?" Kurt proposed, looking at Blaine so hopefully that it was impossible to say no.

"Ten minutes."

"Deal." Kurt agreed almost instantly as the two leaned closer.

"Could you be any more desperate?" Blaine asked teasingly, hushing what he was sure was going to be a complete indignant response by pressing his lips to Kurt's.

It couldn't have been more than a minute into it before Blaine heard a knock on his door and pulled away with a sigh.

"Mr. Anderson?" The student at the door said. "Sorry I'm a bit early. Practice got cancelled"

"Not a problem. You're making up chapter eight's test, is that right?" Blaine asked, searching through his files for a blank test form.

"Yep." Karofsky said, taking a seat in the nearest desk. Blaine walked over and handed him a test before walking toward Kurt.

"Maybe we should cut the lesson short for the day." Blaine murmured, Kurt wouldn't take personal offense to it. Kurt got up from the desk and passed Karofsky's desk on the way out of the door.

But Blaine didn't neglect to notice something incredibly tense in Kurt's expression.

Maybe he did offend him after all? Whatever it was, he'd find time to talk to him about it when another student wasn't in the room.

* * *

"I'm sorry." Sebastian apologized into the phone for what might have been the umpteenth time.

"For what, exactly?" Blaine asked, although his ex was the last person he wanted to hear from at that moment. He expected another litany full of regret and blame and a whole lot of Sebastian  _missing the fucking point_.

"I'm sorry that you were unhappy. And I'm sorry that sometimes it was my fault."

Well. That was new. And it sent a detrimental pang through Blaine's chest. A fondness, long submerged, was finally making a reappearance.

"It wasn't your fault." Blaine said softly. "Everything made me unhappy. Even stupid little things. Like running late for work. Or taxes. I really hate taxes." Words. Blaine kept finding words to spit out but none of them held any weight.

"But it was mostly me." Sebastian confirmed. "All of those little things added up still didn't make you as unhappy as I did."

"It wasn't always so bad." Blaine said, hearing the hurt in Sebastian's voice and wanting to be wherever he was; to comfort him. As much as he hated being with him, being apart was still hard. Sebastian had become a bit of a habit and Blaine had heard more than once that old habits die hard.

"I'm going to quit drinking." Sebastian said. "You know, my  _mamé_ was right. It doesn't do any good."

"I'm glad to hear that. Really."

"When are you coming home?"

There was no home to go back to. Only the skeleton of one, completely empty save for the clinking sounds of keys, or the squeak of new leather, or the fizzing of a freshly opened bottle of champagne. All of the sounds drowning out anything closely resembling warmth.

"I don't know. I just need time."

The phone line rattled with the sound of Sebastian's heavy sigh, his melancholy traveling through space on a thin wire.

"Right. Time." Sebastian agreed. "Where are you staying?"

"I think it's best if you don't know that."

"That's…fair enough." Blaine could hear Sebastian struggling not to blow a fuse. "You'll keep in touch?"

"Yeah. Definitely. Listen, I have to go now. I'll talk to you later?"

"Sure. Yeah. Have a good night." Sebastian said, and then took a breath, as if about to say something else. Then he exhaled into the phone, seemingly changing his mind.

"You too."

Sebastian was the first to hang up. It seemed only fitting, like maybe the two of them would finally be even and put the last five years behind them.

If only.

* * *

"I love that shirt. Where'd you get it?" Chandler asked genially, laughing when Kurt shot him a death glare.

"Oh, don't try to play nice now. I'm practically a hostage."

"Loosen up. You'll thank me." Chandler assured him. "Did you bring your fake ID?"

"Of course. I never leave my house intending to break the law without it."

Chandler pouted. " _Someone_ didn't get enough sleep this morning."

And all Kurt could think was:  _Oh my god, is this what I put everyone else through?_

When he thought back to the time where he considered Chandler as a potential boyfriend he couldn't help but just shake his head out of actual embarrassment. Chandler was wonderful, really, but in small doses.

Kurt supposed he could take his own medicine, but really, he drew the line at holding accessories for ransom.

"Just make sure we're back by ten." Kurt mumbled begrudgingly.

Scandals somehow wasn't exactly how Kurt imagined it. It wasn't all loud music and dark dimly lit rooms, although that was a huge part of it. It ran on a caste system, a lot like high school did. Except instead of jocks and gleeks and loners you had your bears, twinks, and whatever the hell else terminology there was that Kurt hadn't caught onto yet.

It was easy to tell who was of age and who was there using a fake ID just as Chandler and Kurt were, but none of the faces were particularly familiar.

Chandler was showing Kurt the difference between a cub and an otter when a particularly boisterous voice interrupted them.

"And if it isn't  _the_ Chandler Dystra." The guy said, and Kurt realized he couldn't have been much older than they were. "Who's your friend?"

"Matt, meet Kurt. Kurt, Matt." Chandler said, and Matt's silver ring dug into Kurt's skin as the two shook hands.

"Isn't he the most adorable thing?!" Matt practically cooed and— _Don't do it. Don't fucking do it,_ Kurt thought.—pinched his cheeks. That was the third time that night.

Kurt gave him an apprehensive look, and then turned to Chandler to openly express his dislike. It was like some really weird,  _extremely_ gay, family reunion. There was a bunch of really drunk people Kurt didn't know pinching his cheeks and talking loudly at him.

Then came the unwelcome interruption. Some overgrown dude in a hoodie bumped into Chandler's friend, making Matt spill his drink on Chandler's shirt. Then he kept walking like nothing happened.

"Wait one moment, I'll be right back." Kurt promised the two of them, ignoring their protests and disappearing into the throng of people. He was going to find the rude stranger and demand an apology because he'd be damned if someone would treat his friends that way.

"Excuse me!" Kurt called after him, but that just caused the hooded stranger to push through the crowd even faster, bumping into several more people. Kurt figured he should probably let it go but when he saw the guy walk into the rest room he knew he had him cornered.

He walked through the door; the room finally lit enough to clearly see the stranger. But for some odd reason his back was facing the wall.

"Look, I'm sure you didn't mean any trouble. But what you did was incredibly rude."

"Just drop it!" The stranger said gruffly.

"No, I won't drop it. The  _least_ you could have done was apologize."

"Jesus  _Christ_ , Hummel, you won't give it a rest, will you?"

Kurt paused then, his face of annoyance replaced with one of confusion. "How did you…?"

The stranger finally turned around and Kurt had to do everything to keep himself composed.

"Karofsky?"

* * *

Embarrassment at one's own suffering is the most lethal trap. Because you can't—or rather, you won't—get help. And you drown in it. But it's your choice.

And Kurt would rather be in control of his suffering as opposed to it being the other way around. So he kept quiet about many things. He let them fester like an open wound and turn into something ugly and uncontainable because the alternative was asking for help. And Kurt was not a child.

And Karofsky didn't scare him. Not exactly. He was intimidating, yes, but so was Kurt before he had his morning coffee. Nothing about Karofsky really evoked genuine fear.

Except for when things got…well, weird, sometimes. What he saw and what he knew to be true just didn't add up.

It started out with the looks. Karofsky usually gave Kurt looks of rage, disgust, even a humane form of pity. But every now and then there'd be something…different. Something more. Or less, depending on the way one wanted to see it.

But Kurt simply brushed that off.

And the  _comments_. Kurt knew there was no way to look the other way when Karofsky's insults would have very clear innuendos.

But Kurt was, for lack of a better word, embarrassed. He was absolutely mortified that the attention he was getting was coming from a homophobic jock who looked like he just learned how to walk on his hind legs a few weeks ago.

Yet he had bigger things to worry about. And so he always put it off. But now, here it was, clear as day. And he was going to have to deal with it.

The fact that Karofsky was most definitely gay. Or at least curious. And chances were he was more or less attracted to Kurt.

The realization actually didn't bother Kurt the way it should have. It just made everything a lot clearer. He went from being disturbed by Karofsky's actions to finally understanding them.

And Karofsky was staring at Kurt like a deer in headlights. Oh, how the tables have turned.

"I'm not going to tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about." Kurt said finally, breaking the silence. "I don't believe in outing."

"Listen, I'm not a…a fag, okay?" Karofsky said harshly. "I'm not a freak like you."

Kurt had to convince himself that laughing wouldn't have been appropriate for the moment. "Oh, yeah, I'm sure. You're just in a gay bar for kicks."

That didn't make Karofsky happy and he shoved Kurt's shoulder.

" _Kidding_." Kurt said, holding up his hands defensively. "I'm not judging you. I could actually care less why you're here. I just think what you did earlier was rude, that's all."

"Fuck you." was Karofsky's only response and Kurt supposed the chances of him apologizing were slim to none.

"Fair enough." Kurt said quickly, trying his best to appease the beast. "I'll see you around." He tried to back his way out of the bathroom but then Karofsky grabbed him by the collar.

"I swear to god, Hummel, if you tell  _anyone_ about this I'll bash your face in."

Kurt supposed he should have been scared, Karofsky being so close to his face that he could smell the alcohol on his breath. But he was washed over with waves of sympathy.

"I'm sure you will." Kurt said. "I won't tell a soul. Scout's honor." He had only been a boy scout for less than a week but that was beside the point.

Karofsky let go of his collar then, and Kurt didn't hesitate to leave then, knowing it wouldn't be wise to provoke him any further.

When he found Chandler chatting up one of the guys who had pinched his cheek earlier—the fact that Kurt had fallen for Chandler's cheesy lines in the not-so-distant past was truly cringe-worthy—he simply grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him away from the scene.

"What's wrong?" Chandler asked.

"Take me home."

Something in Kurt's expression shut Chandler up and made him comply, and Kurt had never been more thankful for silence in his life.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so longer than usual to update. I've been away for a little while. If I ever take forever don't be afraid to shoot me a message and remind me to hurry things along. Anyway, enjoy :)

**Kurt:** _Hi._

**Blaine:** _Someone's up past their bedtime._

**Kurt:** _Then maybe you should go back to sleep, then._

Blaine smiled inwardly. He became fond of it; the defensive rudeness. He knew it wasn't meant to hurt anyone, but rather to protective measure. It could make one wonder how many years of ridicule he had to endure just to perfect the art.

**Blaine:** _Ha. Can't. Noisy neighbors._

**Kurt:** _So you've moved out?_

**Blaine:** _Yeah. The house was Seb's._

**Kurt:** _Oh. I'm sorry._

It was peculiar how casual he felt about all of this. The fact that he was discussing his private life at one in the morning with someone he hadn't even been on a first name basis with a few months prior. If someone had told him a year ago what his life would become he'd have had a good laugh over it. It was just too far-fetched. He'd never been one to color outside of the lines.

**Blaine:** _Don't worry about it. I've got my eyes on someone else._

**Kurt:** _Do I know him?_

**Blaine:** _You might know him. He's in one of my classes, a little taller than me. Which is totally depressing. But he's witty. And has a very…original fashion sense. But above all else he's a really sweet guy._

**Kurt:** _He sounds like a weirdo._

Blaine laughed.

**Blaine:** _Shut up. He's perfect._

**Kurt:** _I strongly doubt that..where are you now?_

Blaine had a few friends in Lima that may have had space for him. But he didn't want to be a burden. More than that, he realized almost all of his friends in Ohio were also friends with Sebastian. And if everyone found out about Blaine breaking up with him they'd probably side with Sebastian, too. Because there was something about the Smythe charm that had everyone captivated. His ex could cast a binding spell with a smile, something that used to be inspiring but had more recently become problematic.

So rooming with any of his "friends" wasn't an option.

**Blaine:** _A hotel. It's temporary._

**Kurt:** _Can I visit?_

Blaine figured Kurt to be joking. He had trouble telling sometimes. He was the kind of person to say normal things in a sarcastic manner, yet approach the most whimsical of topics with severity and seriousness.

**Blaine:** _It's very sleazy._

**Kurt:** _I happen to be a huge fan of sleazy hotels._

Blaine decided he was definitely joking. Which was good because he wasn't sure how he'd have reacted if he wasn't.

**Blaine:** _In that case, sure._

**Kurt:** _Okay. What's the address?_

**Blaine:** _I was kidding._

**Kurt:** _Already getting out of bed. Where are you?_

Blaine would be lying if he said a small part of him was thrilled, even found it a bit sexy that Kurt wanted to sneak out in the middle of the night just to see him. But the whole reason the two of them worked was because Blaine had a sense of balance, he knew when to push boundaries and when to abide by the rules.

**Blaine:** _It's a school night._

**Kurt:** _I'm very aware. Now, for the last time, what is your location?_

**Blaine:** _Are you serious?_

**Kurt:** _Deadly so._

**Blaine:** _1206 Steuben. Room six. I apologize for the noisy neighbors ahead of time._

**Kurt:** _On my way. And I'm sure we'll live._

* * *

By the time Blaine managed to stop staring numbly at his phone, contemplating what the hell just happened he glanced at a clock and figured he had about fifteen or so moments before Kurt arrived. The least he could do was look presentable.

"Where're you going?" Finn mumbled tiredly, standing in the doorway of Kurt's bedroom and squinting at him; his eyes not yet adjusted to the light.

"Out." Kurt answered airily, throwing his satchel over his shoulder and hoping that Finn wouldn't ask where. Mostly due to the fact that he didn't think that far ahead as to have an alibi explaining where he would be headed at 1:30 in the morning.

"…kay?" Finn shamelessly scratched under his left armpit. "Have fun. Bring me back something."

He lumbered down the hallway, not even sparing Kurt a second glance. Kurt didn't question it and headed out the front door before Finn was awake enough to actually have proper judgment.

* * *

It wasn't until he was actually behind the wheel that Kurt started panicking. Which in hindsight probably put him as well as every other driver on the road in serious danger. But the fact was this: he was  _sneaking out_. Like, properly sneaking out. To meet a  _guy_  at a hotel and oh my god he was way more badass than any of the Skanks at McKinley, far more scandalous than all of Quinn Fabray's sophomore year, he was the epitome of hardcore.

The only bummer was that he couldn't tell anyone. Oh well. It was his sacrifice for the sake of greatness.

He pulled up to the address to see a decent sized hotel that he vaguely recalled his Aunt Mildred staying in when she visited several years ago—Aunt Mildred hadn't gotten along with his Mom and refused to stay at the house—and he couldn't help but think if that was Blaine's idea of sleazy than he was used to way better things than Kurt ever was.

"Don't freak out. No squealing. Keep the eye-rolling to a minimum." Kurt coached himself as he stared into one of his car mirrors. "And for god's sake, no Evita references."

And with that little pep talk and a "go team" he got out of the car and headed into the hotel.

Blaine nearly jumped when he heard the hesitant knocking on his door, thinking there was no way it had already been fifteen minutes. He stood there in shock for a moment when the soft knocks repeated, the sounds echoing through the room like a threat and a promise all at once.

He opened the door and was met with a very strange sight. It was like a photograph he'd seen a thousand times before, but slightly altered. It was Kurt, but watered down, uncharacteristically relaxed and dawning pajama pants. And carrying a satchel. Naturally.

"I wasn't really sure what you had in mind for this visit so I brought movies just in case." Kurt said, bristling past a dumbfounded Blaine and setting his bag down on the bed. "Are you alright?" He asked a little self-consciously.

"I'm…fine. It's just a little weird? Seeing you. Here." Blaine wanted to kick himself; he had never been one with words.

"Oh." Kurt said pointedly, and for a moment Blaine feared he offended him, but then, "It is pretty weird, isn't it? I mean…I hardly recognize you without the bowtie."

Blaine grinned goofily. "I could always put one on? If it would make you feel better…"

"I'm sure I'll manage." Kurt assured, laughing a little.

That was possibly Blaine's favorite thing about being with Kurt. He just  _got_ things, and awkward moments, though frequent, were often brief between them.

Just like that the tension was dissolved.

* * *

"Meryl Streep's so perfect." Kurt said wistfully. "Isn't she just perfect?"

"Uh…yeah. Definitely." Blaine said as the credits rolled across the screen. The truth was he had more trouble paying attention to the movie then he'd want to admit. His brain was mostly short-circuiting from the fact that he had Kurt in his bed. Or, more legally specific, a minor.

"I have more movies if you wanted to… _wait_. Can we order room service?!" Kurt asked.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Blaine said, watching as Kurt visibly deflated. "It's really late. We both have school tomorrow. You should probably get going."

"I thought I was staying over." Kurt said a little dejectedly.

"Won't your parents-"

"I'll leave by six, be in bed by six fifteen, they'll be up by six thirty, then I'll-"

"Okay, fine. Only because I'd hate to see your brilliantly thought out plan go to waste." Blaine said with a slight air of mockery, laughing full out when Kurt scowled at him.

* * *

"Tell me something about you I don't know." Blaine said in a hushed tone, and Kurt wondered if he realized how faulty that command was. After all, it required  _thinking,_ and Kurt had no hope of doing any of that when his (boy)friend was close enough that Kurt could see the stubble on his chin.

He briefly wondered if all of his imperfections were magnified under Blaine's gaze.

"I guess I'm insecure." was the first thing he managed to blurt out. He might as well list off all of his problems e.g. anxiety, his dust allergy, extreme scrap-booking…

"You certainly don't need to be." No lecture, no three-act long play about how Kurt should love himself because he was perfect. Just an observation. Clinical and straight to the point. But there was something more behind it, especially accompanied by what Kurt was sure were Blaine's fingertips sliding down the dip of his back.

_No squealing,_ Kurt thought harshly to himself.

"You're delusional." He opted to say instead

"I'm being honest." Blaine said, trailing his fingers to ghost over Kurt's hip, barely under his shirt but enough to set Kurt's skin on fire.

Kurt opened his mouth to say something but then Blaine abruptly pulled his hand away, as if he had felt the flame too, except instead of giving him a warm feeling it gave him third degree burns.

"Aren't you tired?"

Kurt nodded. "But sleep and I don't always agree."

Blaine wasn't surprised by that. Everything about Kurt screamed insomniac, from his short attention span to his blatant disregard of social constructs such as time. It always worried him, how tired Kurt seemed sometimes, but hearing confirmation of what he suspected made it even worse.

"Has something been bothering you lately?"

"Not really."

Blaine figured that was all the answer he would get and almost dropped the subject until—

"It's just...it's hard, you know? To just let myself…fall asleep. It's hard."

Blaine knew what he meant, always understood the subtext behind what Kurt said. It's almost as if he didn't  _trust_ himself to fall asleep, didn't trust his body to know when to wake up again.

And the thought that Kurt was dealing with something that heavy, having thoughts that dark at such a young age worried him beyond belief. It sounded terrifying, his heart aching just thinking about it. He knew a bit about Kurt; knew he'd experienced loss at a very young age. And from the sounds of it, he never sought out help; never saw a grief counselor of any kind.

And so years later he was still that little kid,that young soul scared of the dark.

"But you could sleep, if you want. I'll be quiet."

"No, no. It's fine. I'm not tired." Blaine lied, kissing his forehead and pulling him close. "We don't…we don't have to sleep. We could just talk."

And so they did. They talked for a while, Blaine about his family and his friends, Kurt about his fairly new living arrangement and the latest gossip circulating around the school.

Kurt eventually did fall asleep, his exhaustion getting the better of him and pulling him in. And it was only the sound of his calm, measured breathing that assured Blaine it was okay for him to fall asleep, too.

* * *

The next morning Kurt woke up slightly disoriented. Once he glanced over his shoulder he was greeted by the sight of Blaine Anderson at rest. He'd never seen him more peaceful looking in his life; the man was constantly worrying over something minute. Kurt experienced one more moment of bliss before he  _remembered_. His  _hair_.

As if sensing he was being watched, Blaine started to wake up. Completely distraught, Kurt knew of no other option than to hide under the sheets.

"Don't open your eyes."

"What's wrong?" Blaine asked, his voice thick with sleep.

"You can't see my bed hair. It's hideous."

"Oh, come on. It can't be any worse than my hair." A pause. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours?"

Kurt, without thinking, emerged from under the sheets long enough to grab the nearest pillow and hit him with it. "That's highly inappropriate."

Blaine laughed and that simply fueled Kurt's rage. "It's not that bad. Your hair, I mean."

And that's how Blaine joined the club—if five individuals could be called a club— of people allowed to see Kurt's hair before he styled it in the morning.

"Question. Does this mean I can take a nap in Chemistry class without being yelled at?" Kurt asked on his way out of the door. "Because I only got four hours of sleep. And studies show that-"

"Don't test me, Hummel."

Kurt shrugged. "It was worth a shot."

"Next time, maybe we should try for the weekend?" Blaine suggested.

A few weeks ago Kurt wouldn't have been too sure a next time was guaranteed. So he had no real objections.

"Sure." Kurt gave him a peck on the cheek. "See you at school?"

Blaine smiled. "Yeah. See you."

And just like that Kurt was out of the door. After showing up barely announced—in Blaine's book a fifteen minutes notice was not a notice at all.

But maybe that's exactly what Blaine needed. Barely announced visits. It wasn't what he was used to, but what he was used to wasn't great either. So he welcomed the change.


	21. Chapter 21

"Where were you last night?" Finn demanded.

Kurt's eyes widened, gesturing to Quinn who he'd been talking to, and hoping Finn would understand that  _now wasn't the time_. But it was too late, for his friend's face was already piqued with curiosity.

Kurt shook his head. "I really don't know what you're talking about."

"I saw you leaving."

"That's funny, because I was in my bed the whole night. Sleeping."

"Then why didn't I hear your alarm go off this morning?"

Well when did Finn start becoming observant? And why did he choose until  _after_ Kurt had developed a bit of a social life?

It had been a few days since Kurt first snuck out of the house, and within those few days he had snuck out a total of three more times. And no one even noticed. Or so he had thought.

Kurt supposed relying on his step brother's stupidity was never really a fool-proof plan—no pun intended. In the future he'd have to be more careful, or at least drug Finn first.

But disregarding the future, he had a more present problem in the form of his ridiculously overgrown brother blocking the path to his locker and demanding answers. He stared at him challengingly, not willing to give anything up.

Quinn sighed dramatically then, directing all of their attention to her. "Kurt was at my house last night, okay? We were getting an early start on designs for Prom committee."

Kurt stared at Quinn in equal parts shock and appreciation. He wasn't even  _on_ the prom committee, although it did sound like the type of thing he'd be interested in if he didn't hate the school. "Uh…yeah." It took him a few moments to recover. "But I  _figured_ it was none of your business." He said to Finn, feigning offense.

"Alright, alright. I get it." Finn said, holding up his hands in defeat. "I'll back off. See you guys at lunch."

And then Finn was gone and Kurt was left with a pair of green eyes cutting straight through him. A familiarity in her gaze that was more disturbing than it was comforting and all in one foul motion he knew that she  _knew_.

"I'm gonna be late to class." Kurt mumbled distractedly, sure he was going to be sick as he hurried past Quinn and her eyes that knew too much. He sank into the comfort of a hallway crowded with people who didn't know him at all.

* * *

"Kurt, I'm sensing a lot of negative energy coming from you." Rachel said calmly to him, as usual basing her claims on nothing factual or even logical.

"…okay?" Kurt tried, rolling his eyes before he picked up a fry from his tray and examined it closely, apprehensively nibbling on it when he deemed it safe.

"I'm serious! You're very tense. It's making me uncomfortable."

_You're making me very uncomfortable,_ Kurt thought but didn't say because that wasn't "socially acceptable" or "nice".

But she was right. He was tense. He was wound so tightly that he was sure any sudden movements would completely unravel him. Because he had slipped. He had slipped and Quinn  _knew_ and he didn't know how exactly she found out but that didn't matter. He made a mistake. He smiled at Blaine too widely or joked with him too often and now it was going to ruin everything.

Sometimes he forgot it was wrong. That  _they_ were wrong. Because that person; that boy who snuck out; that person who stole kisses in between classes and engaged in activity that was certainly illegal wasn't  _Kurt_. Not really. It was a separate entity, the person Kurt had always frowned upon as undisciplined; the Noah Puckermans of the world. But the time he spent with Blaine constituted its own world where rules didn't apply. Kurt had never thought of it as  _wrong_ because he was leading two separate lives.

But Quinn bridged the gap and everything that had gone on in the past few weeks hit him at once. Calm ocean waters were suddenly plagued with tsunamis and hurricanes and he knew there would be causalities.

So he supposed he was, as Rachel put it, giving off a lot of negative energy.

"You're imagining things."

"No, I'm not. You can call me crazy all you like but I've never been one to hallucinate." Rachel insisted. "You're hiding something."

That seemed to pique the interest of Finn, who had accused him of the very same thing that morning.

"Would you give it a  _rest_ , Rachel?" Quinn interjected. "I know you're a sore loser, but this is getting  _sad_. So what if you didn't win for once? Yeah, Kurt beat you.  _We_ beat you. That doesn't mean you have to resort to making up things."

The whole table was shocked into silence and Rachel looked as if she was trying to communicate but all that came out were indignant squeaks.

Quinn got up to throw out her trash as if nothing had happened, stopping by Kurt as she walked passed and leaning down to whisper a smug, "You're welcome", before heading to the garbage cans.

Kurt gave the rest of his fries to Finn, all of a sudden losing his appetite.

* * *

Blaine was busy apartment hunting when he should have been grading papers, his desk cluttered with half graded lab reports when he heard the sounds of someone entering the classroom. He didn't even have to look up to know who it was; the unmistakable clicking of boots on tile giving him away.

"Don't you have a home to go to?"

Kurt ignored the jab and sat down next to Blaine, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on the desk while peering over at the computer screen. "What's that?"

"I'm looking for apartments." He explained. "And get your feet off the desk."

Kurt moved one foot. "You should get one with a lot of storage space. You'd be surprised how many apartments don't have that."

Blaine, as politely as possible, pushed Kurt's other foot off the desk and ignored his grumbled complaint. "Right. Now you should go home and study for your test tomorrow."

"What test tomorrow?"

Blaine didn't even pretend to be surprised at that response, although he was amazed that Kurt was that absent-minded. "I'd pay money to understand what goes on in your brain all day."

"Usually a whole lot of ' _ew'_ and ' _nope'_ accompanied by the occasional ' _I can't believe he thought it was okay to leave the house like that._ ' Overall, nothing exciting."

Blaine chuckled at that, somehow doubting it. "Will you call me later? When I'm less busy, I mean. And we can talk more…freely." He added, something about being on school grounds making him rationally nervous.

"Fine, fine. I can tell when I'm not wanted." Kurt joked, getting up and heading toward the door. "I'll give you a call."

"Study for your test." Blaine reminded him uselessly, already knowing Kurt would find something else he deemed more important to do. And he never thought in his life that he'd find a procrastinating student charming but he knew that in Kurt's head it wasn't the putting off of something important, but rather the delay of something trivial in the grand scheme of things.

For someone who was planning to change the world someday through words and music, chemistry sets in eleventh grade classrooms looked like the silly play things of children.

And Blaine should have found that insulting since Chemistry was a science he had dedicated more than half of his life to. Yet there was something about Kurt's alternative brilliance that blinded him to much else.

Long story short, he was absolutely infatuated. And he should have been weary of it; considering how that had turned out the first time. But where Sebastian was certain and confident Kurt was youthful and fumbling, and that assured Blaine because for once there were two people who had no idea what they were doing instead of one.

He liked that they were idiots together; even if this was just a brief stint for Kurt that ended after high school. Because he'd never been one to see the appeal of forever, anyway. Time spoiled all good things and so he wouldn't worry himself with something as benign as longevity.

* * *

It was two in the morning and Kurt's brain was feverish and occupied, which sometimes happened when it got so terribly quiet and he was left alone with his worries. Sometimes he'd write, but nothing ever coherent—just a series of vignettes that would never amount to anything Broadway worthy since the edges were too jagged to try and piece together.

Normally he would call Mercedes since she would be up marathoning reruns of the  _Fresh Prince of Bellaire_ or  _The Nanny_ , but he knew she went to sleep early on days they weren't showing. A quick check of the TV guide confirmed his suspicions that she was fast asleep.

He couldn't think of anyone else that would tolerate him calling that late. Texting, maybe. But in a world devoid of human contact Kurt sometimes longed to hear a person's voice.

That's when he remembered Blaine. And how he promised to give him a call later. But maybe "later" had a time limit. Maybe he wasn't even awake.

Kurt felt selfish for hoping that Blaine had trouble sleeping, too.

But he was, for lack of a better word, scared. And he supposed his problem— in its simplest form—was Blaine. But he was also the solution and that was enough.

He dialed on the off chance that Blaine wasn't unconscious, and he felt his heart skip a beat when the teacher answered on the first ring with a familiar, "Hey."

"Hi. How are you?" Kurt said, confused when he heard Blaine laughing on the other line. His laughter always seemed misplaced to Kurt; utilized when not warranted and scarce when needed. Regardless, it was lovely. He was lovely. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. It's just…nothing." Blaine mumbled, smile evident in his voice. "You're just…people usually don't call this late just to talk."

"Why else would someone make a phone call?"

Blaine laughed again, a sound that quieted Kurt's anxieties.

"You still haven't answered my question." Kurt pointed out.

"I'm doing wonderfully. And you?"

"I'm alright, I guess."

"Alright. Just alright?"

"Yeah."

"If I were more cliché this would be the part where I'd ask you what you were wearing."

Kurt laughed nervously. "Um…pajamas?"

"God, you're so boring." Blaine drawled.

"Well what did you expect?"

"You're probably wearing pajamas stitched together by the tears of children dwelling in third world countries."

Kurt snorted. "I don't own designer  _pajamas_. You make me sound like some snob."

"If the shoe fits…"

"Be nice."

They talked for a while and speaking to Blaine somehow made all of Kurt's worries about Quinn seem juvenile and silly. He was being silly.

"You should go to sleep now." Blaine proposed suddenly.

"No."

"Yes."

"M'not even tired." Kurt mumbled.

"Yes, you are. And you have school tomorrow."

"Good to know, _Mom_." Kurt said mockingly.

And it totally caught Blaine off-guard. It was just a part of culture; the fact that we all associate mothers with nagging. But if the mother in question no longer existed could the expression still be used? It was a tree-falling-down-in-the-woods kind of question; the kind Blaine spent his time pondering when he should be doing something important.

_If a mourning child's heart breaks in two but no one sees it happen did it really break at all?_

"Blaine? Are you there?" Kurt's voice cut deep into his thoughts, sounding vulnerable as well as something else he couldn't place. "I'm sorry for calling so late. I just really wanted to talk to you."

"It's fine. I wasn't even sleeping." Blaine assured him. "But I still think you should go to sleep."

"I can't." Kurt put it very simply. He was not being defiant for the sake of it but because there was no other option. And all of a sudden Blaine connected the dots.

"Did you want my help? To sleep, I mean."

"That would be nice. Maybe you could start lecturing like you do in class? That always puts me to sleep."

Blaine laughed shamelessly, feeling no offense. "I can tell you a story?"

"You don't seem like the creative type."

"I don't need to be. This story is completely true." Blaine lied.

Now he had to think of something. Something amazing. Something that would make Kurt smile even if he wasn't able to see it.

"There was once a boy and a girl…"

"Typical hetero-normative start to any story." Kurt mumbled.

"Shush. Do you want a story or not?"

"Sorry."

And although he had never been a good story-teller he managed to tell him a story of love and loss and second chances; his words and Kurt's soft breathing harmonizing to create something wondrous.

He spun a tale of a princess and a stable-boy who fell in love—"How original." Kurt drawled—but they were not allowed to be together, not because of social class but because they grew up in a village where everyone was born with a shape on their hand. Circles could only be with other circles, stars with other stars, and so on.

So the two decided to run to a land where people were born naked of any markings; where palms were as blank as a freshly made canvas.

He was in the middle of the story— "And while on the run they encountered a field full of lilacs and carnations." –when Kurt interrupted.

"Did you know that lilacs mean the joy of youth? And carnations….carnations mean 'alas, my poor heart.'." Kurt recited, still so brilliant although barely awake. "So I'm confused."

"Why?"

"Because, how can those two flowers be in the same meadow? Joy and heartache don't coexist."

"Of course they do." Blaine insisted, knowing that was the very foundation human life was built on.

"Not in fairytales." Kurt corrected. "Fairytales are very one dimensional."

"I already told you this was a true story."

"Okay, okay. Continue." But as soon as Blaine started speaking again he interrupted him. "Wait, wait. Are the flowers a metaphor? Are they running toward youth? Or away from it?"

"I don't know, Kurt. I just picked random names because they sounded nice."

"Kay. Done interrupting. Honest."

He continued telling the story, and it was about fifteen minutes later when he realized he hadn't been interrupted in a while. Growing silent, he picked up the sound of Kurt's quiet, even breathing. He had succeeded in getting the student's restless mind to collapse on itself; to allow him some quiet.

It was only that morning that Kurt woke again, sending him the message:  _What happened to them in the end?_

**Blaine:**   _They cut off their hands to avoid persecution_

**Kurt:**   _How morbid. I love it._

And Blaine simply laughed because Kurt had such blind faith in everything he did that if he were to draw stick figures he knew Kurt would call it a mosaic.

And for some reason that terrified the hell out of him.


	22. Chapter 22

When Blaine was younger he used to think plastic bags worked like parachutes. In hindsight, it was a foolish idea. Anyone with basic knowledge of physics would disprove it. But that was back when Blaine still wrote his R's and L's backwards; still tied his shoes using bunny ears. So at the time it had made perfect sense.

So one day he climbed to the top of a tree with a plastic bag that he had retrieved from his mom's car and saved for this special occasion. He climbed to the lowest limb and walked out to the edge. He nearly lost his balance twice but managed to stay on long enough to hold the bag open.

Then he jumped.

And he fell at rate of 9.8 meters per second squared and hit the ground with an unceremonious thud.

That was the first leap of faith he'd ever made. And it should have been the last.

But people never really learn, do they?

* * *

Kurt spent most of his night hours either talking to Blaine on the phone or sneaking out to see him. Yet he had never felt so awake in ages.

The darkness of the night was the only time Kurt felt like he and Blaine could be unapologetically who they are. He could lose himself in the strong steadiness of Blaine's voice; in the stillness of town already sleeping and the mystery and majesty that was the stars that spanned on for miles and miles.

Fact: Kurt hadn't known how to spot the different constellations in the sky until Blaine taught him.

He loved it. He loved that it was a special time that belonged to the two of them. But jealousy was still present; envy twisted painfully in his gut whenever he saw a couple walking down the street and enjoying the warmth of the sunlight.

Sometimes the comforting coolness of the night air turned into an icy realization. Darkness became synonymous to unwanted, and under the cloak of it he often felt like he and Blaine were something ugly and evil.

He had this really childish fantasy of him and Blaine going out into public; even for something as silly as a cup of coffee. And the fantasies were enough to keep him going.

But subconsciously he found himself planning how to make it a reality. There was a mall four hours away; too far away for most people in Lima to bother driving to. And he supposed if they were to go out in public, they could go there.

Not that it would happen. Because it was "risky".

But he couldn't stop himself from texting Blaine:  _The weekend's coming up…did you want to do something?_

**Blaine:**   _Sure. Did you have something in mind?_

**Kurt:**   _Not really, no._

**Blaine:**   _We could do the usual? I just got Rent on DVD._

**Kurt:**   _I was thinking we could go out?_

Blaine didn't respond for a full fifteen minutes and all Kurt could think was that he's finally done it. He's scared him away permanently. But then there was a response.

**Blaine:**   _Like…"out" out?_

**Kurt:**   _Yeah. We could drive a few hours to Rosalin Park. No one would know us there._

**Blaine:**   _Too risky._

**Kurt:**   _What's life without a few risks?_

**Blaine:**   _I'm not risking my job, Kurt._

Kurt knew that answer was coming. And he knew he was being irrational but it angered him. It frustrated him to an intolerable point. Because he did this to  _himself_. He  _wanted_ this. He still did want it. And risking it all for the sake of the stupid luxury of daylight wasn't smart of him.

It was juvenile. He was juvenile.

**Kurt:**   _It's okay. I get it._

**Blaine:** _No, you don't. You're pissed._

**Kurt:**   _Maybe._

**Blaine:**   _It's not like I'm doing this on purpose. You understand that, right?_

Well, of fucking course Kurt understood it. He didn't like it when Blaine got like this; talked down to him like he was an absolute idiot. It was rare but each time it made his blood boil.

**Kurt:**   _Just…forget it. I'll talk to you later._

And that was the end of that conversation.

* * *

Blaine honestly would have been worried about Kurt, but he had a bigger task ahead of him. He had finalized the purchases for his new apartment and planned on moving in the following week. But the only issue was that he had to retrieve some of his old things. Which were in Sebastian's possession. He called Sebastian to let him know he'd be coming by, and it was only in the car that he realized it would be the first time they'd talked in person since they broke up.

He'd driven up to the house and the sight of it nearly made all of his resolve crumble. He suddenly missed it more than he missed anything; certain that all he'd have to do was beg for a minute before Sebastian would take him back and everything would just go back to the way it was before.

And then he recalled that the way it was before sucked.

But he did miss Sebastian. So when he rang the doorbell and the lanky jerk answered the door the smile Blaine offered him was genuine.

"Your shit's all packed away in boxes. I even labeled it for you." Were the first words to come out of Sebastian's mouth; laced with false cheeriness.

"Hello to you to." Blaine said, his smile growing even wider. Yes, Sebastian Smythe was an absolute asshole. But he missed it. And not because he was conditioned to due to years of verbal abuse, but because it reminded him of the Sebastian he'd first met. The one who'd become Blaine's friend because he knew he needed one.

Blaine sincerely hoped they could still be friends.

Sebastian didn't even have to step aside too much to allow Blaine through the doorway; his slight frame not taking up much space. Blaine noticed for the first time that his ex-boyfriend wasn't as big as he remembered. It was his height and confidence that gave the illusion of strength and superiority.

"Did you want to stay for dinner?" Sebastian asked apprehensively, scratching the back of his neck which Blaine knew he did when he was self-conscious. "I could make that stir fry you like."

"That would be lovely." Blaine said, watching Sebastian visibly relax once he'd accepted his offer.

Hours later and Blaine's boxes were forgotten as the two sat at the familiar cherry-wood table over two plates of food and glasses of wine.

They caught up over dinner. Sebastian admitted to attempting to quit alcohol completely, but then when that didn't work he limited himself to only half a glass of wine with his dinner per night.

"That's great."

"No, it's not. It's the fucking worst. I'm cranky all the time and I get hallucinations because of withdrawal." Sebastian deadpanned and upon Blaine's horrified expression he cracked a smile. "I'm kidding, genius."

Blaine laughed then, out of relief more than anything else. "Glad to see you've retained your sense of humor."

Sebastian smiled at him again, softer this time. "And I'm glad to see you so…I don't know. Happy, I guess. You're like…glowing." He shook his head at his own sentimentality. "Jesus Christ. Do you see why I can't be sober? I say weird shit."

"Affection isn't  _weird_ , Seb. It's normal."

"It feels disgusting." Sebastian joked and Blaine nearly choked on the fondness bubbling up his throat and threatening to come out in the form of an 'I love you.'

He was careful not to drink too much wine. Because if he had been anything less than sober he really would have done it. Fallen for him all over again.

This Sebastian he was seeing was a lot closer to the one he'd met all those years ago. The boy with the cocky grin and the crude sense of humor and the cheesy pick-up lines. He used to seem life-times away but Blaine felt that if he were to reach across the dinner table he'd find him again.

And that realization made him know it was time to go.

"Thank you for dinner. It was great." Blaine stood up.

It took a moment for Sebastian to realize Blaine was getting ready to leave. And when he did he appeared absolutely sullen. "It was no problem." He got up too and began clearing the table. "Do you need help moving the boxes?"

There were only three and Blaine was sure he could manage but he didn't want to say goodbye to Sebastian just yet. So he said yes. And Sebastian ended up carrying two boxes while Blaine only carried one. When everything was in his trunk the two simply stood on the driveway of the Smythe property; Sebastian looking like he was incredibly torn.

"What's wrong?" Blaine asked.

Sebastian simply shook his head, never one to completely reveal what was on his mind. "You'll visit, right? You won't drop off the face of the planet or something?"

Blaine was struck by a sudden sadness. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. Take care of yourself, okay?"

Sebastian's conflicted expression submerged under the guise of his smirk. "Will do. See you around, Anderson."

"See you."  _I still love you in a twisted sort of way and in different circumstances we could have had a wonderful life together._

One could build whole worlds out of the words we choose not to say.

* * *

It took Kurt a few hours of the silent treatment to realize he was probably being completely irrational about the whole situation. So he sent Blaine a message of apology.

**Kurt:**   _I'm sorry about earlier. It just gets frustrating, sometimes. And it's made me sound ungrateful. I really appreciate you. And the time we spend together. And it's enough for me._

Kurt waited with bated breath until he finally got a response from Blaine.

**Blaine:**   _Did you really want to go out this weekend?_

That wasn't exactly the response Kurt was expecting, so he figured Blaine was testing him.

**Kurt:**   _Yes. But I was being stupid. I get why that's not possible._

**Blaine:**   _Actually, we can. We just have to be extremely careful. And you can't tell anyone where you're going, Kurt. I mean it._

**Kurt:**   _Okay! (:_

**Blaine:** _Your temper tantrum worked._

**Kurt:**   _I did not have a tantrum._

**Blaine:**   _Did too. Brat ;)_

If being a brat got him what he wanted then Kurt would proudly wear the title.

* * *

They met up that weekend as planned; Blaine's car parked a good three blocks away from Kurt's house. Kurt found him just fine, getting into the passenger seat of his car. And then they were driving; within fifteen minutes they were on the highway among several other cars, all driving too quickly to notice all the different brands of sin they were speeding past.

Kurt fiddled with the radio and rolled both windows down—despite ample protest from the dictator in the driver's seat—singing at the top of his lungs. And when he didn't know the lyrics he made up nonsensical words; Blaine laughing whenever they got borderline ridiculous.

"Sing." Kurt said, wanting to hear Blaine's voice. He'd never really heard him sing.

"No thanks. I like listening to you." Blaine assured him, seeming not all there, as if preoccupied in thought.

Kurt decided not to press the matter, resuming his singing, except quieter. He quickly figured out how Blaine's car worked and reclined his seat as far back as it would go. He then searched through Blaine's glove compartment and successfully produced a pair of sunglasses, which he put on before lying back. Blaine watched Kurt's antics out of the corner of his eye, and he had to laugh.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm getting comfy."

"The sunglasses are a bit big on you."

"Maybe if you had a smaller head."

Blaine scoffed, snatching the sunglasses from Kurt and deeming him not worthy to wear them.

Kurt continued rummaging through Blaine's glove compartment and found a number of things—pens, paper, coupons, his license and registration—"Good. Now at least I know you are who you say you are." He joked—and condoms.

Kurt nearly had a heart attack and put it back in the glove compartment, closing it quickly as if the wretched things would try to escape if he hadn't.

He looked up from where he was reclined to see Blaine wearing a bemused expression. "I wonder what the scientific name for fear of condoms is."

"I'm not  _scared_ of condoms." Kurt huffed.

"I'm pretty sure it's a branch of erotophobia…" Blaine mumbled, more to himself in an attempt to actually answer his own question.

"I'm not  _scared_ of anything."

"You do realize those have been there for a while, right? It's not like I was planning something. I know you're not ready for that kind of thing."

Kurt felt like he could wither away and die right there. Because he knew Blaine thought of him as some prude who cowered at the mere allusion to anything sexual. Which was false. Kurt was like any other teenage boy out there when it came to that kind of thing. Kurt thought in more complicated terms then kittens and rainbows and he didn't want Blaine thinking he had to  _shelter_ him from the big bad world.

"What if I told you I was ready for that kind of thing?" Kurt challenged.

"I'd tell you you're either delusional or lying through your teeth." Blaine answered, not even taking his eyes off of the road.

"The second one." Kurt admitted in nothing more than a mumble.

Blaine seemed to sense the tension and frowned in slight concern. "You know, I've got a secret."

Kurt perked up instantly, his inner gossip wanting to know more.

"Sex isn't like...it's not  _everything_. It's not the best thing there is out there. It's  _pretty_  awesome but it's not…it's not the most important thing."

It wasn't that Kurt thought it was. It was that most of his generation had been conditioned to believe that in terms of life-changing moments; it ranked pretty highly. In fact, it seemed to be an inevitability that everyone was aspiring to. It was vilified, bastardized, but most importantly, it was  _glorified_. If you weren't having it you felt like you were missing out. But if you were then you were frowned upon.

"Then what is?" He asked.

"It's different for every person. For example, I think communication is the most important thing." Blaine explained. "My point is, there's no rush, okay?"

"No rush. Got it." Kurt said with a nod, almost positive he was rapidly turning a hideous shade of red. "Can we stop for food?" He asked, wanting a change of topic.

Blaine—equally glad for the change of topic—turned into the parking lot of the nearest diner, not even looking both ways before doing so.

Because he figured if he could survive that conversation he could survive anything.

* * *

The trip to the mall was an outing that they both dearly needed. It was a way for both of them to take a moment and stop worrying and just  _breathe_. Because under the pressure of everything sometimes it was hard to remember even that.

But watching Kurt in a store was like watching an artist in front of a canvas. Because that's really what it was to Kurt. He had elevated shopping from a hobby to an art form and watching him at work was captivating.

There was a certain level of reverence in the way Kurt stared at display windows, as if he was looking at God himself through the thin sheet of glass. And Blaine supposed shopping was a religious experience. If money were an offering to an altar and the blessing in question were a pair of skinny jeans, that is.

There was a kind of loneliness in the way he stared, too. Blaine had trouble rationalizing why. But then he'd turn to Blaine and the look would be replaced by a smile and an apology. "I'm sorry. I hope I'm not boring you."

Never. Kurt never bored him.

And then there were times where he was downright silly, trying on ridiculously sized hats and hideous jackets, enthusiastically yelling at Blaine, "Take a picture! Look, look! You have to take a picture!"

And eventually Blaine joined in on the madness, trying on the various things Kurt pointed at and just to hear that laughter that he'd grown so fond of.

In the end he deleted all of the pictures without Kurt knowing. He hadn't wanted to but they would have been highly incriminating if anyone found them.

But there was one he kept.

Kurt had been playfully hiding behind a rack of clothes, eventually poking his head up; only the upper half of his features visible.

Blaine figured at first glance no one would know who it was Kurt. But he would know and that was really all that mattered.

* * *

That Monday Kurt walked into McKinley High in an uncharacteristically good mood. He'd said hello to people he would never even spare a glance for on normal days. His cheeriness took a number of people by surprise.

"Did you finally save up enough to get those shoes you wanted?" Mercedes asked.

"Let me guess: Cancelled exams?" Tina tried.

When he finally encountered Rachel she took one look at him before tugging him to the corner of the hallway and whispering dramatically, "Are you on drugs?"

He had laughed them all off and simply went to open his locker. When he opened it a piece of paper fell out. Curiosity peaked; Kurt bent down to pick it up. He opened it. All he saw was extremely pretty writing that said the following:

**_I know_ ** _. I'm the only one that knows. If you want to keep it that way follow these instructions…_

At that point Kurt had stopped reading. Instead he was overcome with an intense feeling of nausea. Because this couldn't be happening to him. Not now. Not when everything had been going so well.

It took him a total of two seconds to know who it was.

Quinn. Manipulative Quinn. Conniving Quinn.  _Evil_ Quinn.

Well, he wasn't going to sit down and take it. He'd fight fire with fire.

Quinn Fabray would go down in flames.


	23. Chapter 23

Burt Hummel sat across the dinner table from his son, who was meticulously cutting his steak into bite sized pieces, thoroughly opposed to the barbaric method of stabbing and gnawing.

It was rare that the two of them ever got the chance to eat dinner like they used to; just the two of them sitting across from each other and ignoring the fact that there were more chairs than people.

He never thought he'd miss it.

"How's school?" He asked, breaking Kurt's concentration. His son's eyes briefly flickered upward to regard him, before turning back to his plate to continue cutting.

"It's  _school_." Kurt said, as if the simple title of the institution was an answer in and of itself.

Burt supposed he'd have to be more specific. "How's chemistry?"

Kurt's hand stilled. "It's…great, yeah. I've improved a lot."

Burt wasn't born yesterday and he knew when Kurt was hiding something from him. He supposed the sneakiness was to be suspected; that it came with the territory of raising a teenager.

Wow. Teenager. It seemed as if just last week Kurt would run to Burt for something as little as a skinned knee.

But the kid who sat in front of him  _wasn't_  a kid anymore. He was an articulate young man who led a whole life separate from his Dad. Kurt could handle his own problems and pains, things more complex than a scratch gained from falling off a bike.

He supposed asking Kurt to be completely open and honest was asking too much of him.

"I'm sorry I was so harsh on you earlier in the year. I just know you're smart, kiddo. And it killed me that you weren't applying yourself." Burt explained.

"I know. It's fine. No need for apologizing." Kurt said, flashing a smile at him as if to ease his guilt. Then he looked back down at his plate in search for a piece of steak he deemed worthy of being his first bite.

"That Mr. Anderson is a miracle worker." Burt said. "I've never seen you so motivated to learn before."

It was peculiar to Burt, but it seemed as if Kurt had made his tutoring lessons a priority, sometimes staying a whole hour longer than scheduled just to make sure he fully grasped the concepts.

He stopped his praise when he saw Kurt's reaction, expression subtly nauseous as he clenched his utensils with a force that turned his knuckles white.

"I'm tired." He said in a quiet voice, pushing away the plate of untouched food. "I'll just go lay down."

"Kay, bud." Burt said, taking the plate and covering it up just in case Kurt felt hungry later.

He sighed as Kurt left the room, feeling slight disappointment at the brevity of their interaction but quickly getting over it in favor of cleaning up the rest of the table.

* * *

Kurt's palms were clammy and his throat was dry. He quickly locked his bedroom door behind him before sliding down the floor, sitting and hoping it would ease the dizziness.

He figured he was about two symptoms away from a full-fledged panic attack.

As if the universe didn't want to make the situation  _too_ easy for him, his cellphone buzzed in his pocket. He looked at the ID and calmed down slightly as he picked up.

"Hi."

"Hey."

Blaine's voice worked like a sedative, stopping his heart from beating out of his chest and restoring his ability to breathe. His symptoms disappeared and he recognized the alleged panic attack for what it truly was: fear. Fear that everyone  _knew_ and everyone was waiting for the opportunity to rip away one of the few things that never failed to make him smile.

Fear that even the people he loved would turn on him if they truly knew what he'd been up to in his free time. He'd be sent to rehab like Quinn.

Quinn. He had to do something about Quinn.

"Are you okay to talk?" Blaine asked.

"Yeah." Kurt answered, finally getting up from the ground and moving to sit on the edge of his bed. "What's up?"

"Well, I've finally unpacked my last box." Blaine announced, and Kurt could practically hear the grin in his voice. "It's official. I've moved."

"That's great. I assume you're expecting a house warming gift?" Kurt teased.

"Not really. But since you brought it up a strip tease would be nice."

Kurt playfully hummed, as if contemplating it. "Yeah…no. Not happening. Try again."

Blaine sighed dramatically, feigning disappointment. "Then the least you can do is grace me with your presence. I feel like I haven't seen you in ages."

"You just saw me this morning."

"You know what I mean."

Kurt definitely knew what he meant. He also knew it would be safest to avoid Blaine until he had everything sorted out.

"I've just been busy lately. But I'll come around this weekend?"

Kurt figured the problem would be resolved by then. He'd put the blonde devil in her place and everything would go back to normal. Well, as normal as they could be.

"It's a date."

* * *

Kurt arrived at school the next day with a plan. He knew Quinn wouldn't be dumb enough to drop her guard around him, so he needed a second pair of eyes to help him find something incriminating—well, more incriminating than a pregnancy scandal.

It was Mission Impossible. But he'd have to suck it up and be Tom Motherfucking Cruise because there was no room for error.

He passed her in the hallway and greeted her with a tight-lipped smile, and she did the same, having the nerve to even  _wink_  at him, like what they shared was a playful little secret.

It took a few minutes, but he finally located the creep he needed: Jacob Ben Israel, hunched over a laptop in the computer lab. Kurt would never voluntarily subject himself to a conversation with him, but desperate times called for desperate measures and Jacob was the man he needed.

"I need your help." He said, causing Jacob to look up suddenly.

"Kurt?" He remarked, his voice almost oily in quality, making Kurt's skin itch. "Well, well, well. It was only a matter of time. What would you like?"

"I want to blackmail someone." Upon the declaration Jacob grinned, baring hideously yellowed teeth.

"Lucky for you, that's my specialty." Jacob said. "But you know how I work..."

Jacob never did anything unless he could benefit from it in some way. Kurt accounted for that ahead of time, and he took his book bag off of his shoulder to reveal its contents.

Playboy magazines. About three that he stole from under Finn's bed. He gave Jacob one.

"You only get the other two  _after_ you do your job." Kurt said, knowing how easy it was to be wronged.

Jacob sifted through the magazine as Kurt awkwardly stood there and pretended to fix the cuff of his shirt sleeve. After the most uncomfortable minute of his life and the sound of what Kurt was  _sure_ was heavy breathing, Jacob looked up.

"Hummel, you've got yourself a deal."

Jacob reached his hand forward to shake on it and Kurt's hand moved to do the same before he thought better of it, quickly transforming his hand into a fist and giving him a fist bump.

Easy to say after they were done discussing plans Kurt fled the room and went next door the Miss Pillsbury's to request some disinfectant wipes.

* * *

"I'm handing out a review to your next test. Now, this is just a  _guideline_ to what will be on the test. Don't limit yourself to just this." Blaine warned as the students passed the sheets back to each other, already knowing he was going to receive a bunch of complaints next week on the test being "unfair".

He let the students get into groups and gave them class time to work on it, frankly because he was tired of teaching and needed time to himself to get some grading done. Kurt used to help him with that kind of thing, but it turned out that they had found better ways to pass the time.

But now he had twice the amount of papers to grade.

He occasionally glanced up from his papers to watch Kurt bicker with Mike Chang over various answers; proud of the fact that Kurt could at least hold his own in a conversation about Chemistry, which was a lot more than one could say a month or two ago.

About twenty minutes later Blaine figured he should probably actually  _work_ for his paycheck so he took the second half of the class to go over some concepts. For probably the first time Kurt was participating, answering questions with actual facts as opposed to puns and wisecracks.

And there was something about having to engage in pleasantries with Kurt in front of a crowd of other students that made him miss him even more than if he were to avoid him altogether.

When the bell rang he asked Kurt to stay after class, waiting patiently until the last of the loiterers filed out of his class before he asked him point blank.

"Are you avoiding me?"

Kurt seemed to be wrestling with himself over whether he should tell the truth or not, but then he said, "Yes."

Taken back by the bluntness of the answer, Blaine's brow knit in confusion. "Is there a reason?"

Kurt nodded, seemingly taking a sudden interest in the floor. "It's not you. It's…something's come up. But I'm taking care of it."

"Kurt…" Blaine stepped forward, resting a hand on his waist and pulling him forward. "You don't need to keep secrets from me, okay? Just tell me what's wrong. Maybe I can help."

Kurt promptly took a step back. "I can  _handle it_." He said stubbornly. And Blaine didn't push it because he knew when Kurt got like this there was no talking me out of it.

"Just…promise me you're not involved in drug dealing or something." Blaine teased, glad when Kurt cracked a smile.

"I don't even know where to get drugs." He assured him.

"Good." He pecked his cheek. "Keep it that way."

"No promises." Kurt said, returning the kiss on his lips. "See you Saturday?"

"See you Saturday." He confirmed. As he watched Kurt leave the room he couldn't help but feel their conversation did not reassure him at all. It only made him more concerned.

* * *

"You better be calling me with news." Kurt said as he picked up the phone to the laborious breathing of Jacob Ben Israel, who always sounded like a tuberculosis patient no matter what time of day.

"I've got nothing."

"What do you mean you've got  _nothing_? It's been  _two days_." Kurt exclaimed. "I would have been able to find more myself!"

"That's just it. I've got nothing. Except her locker combination." Jacob said. "I can't look through her stuff because I'm one mistake away from expulsion. But you've got a clean record."

"Get to the point, Israel." Kurt snapped.

"I'll give you the combination tomorrow and you look after school. If  _you_ get caught you'll simply get a slap on the wrist and be on your merry way."

Kurt thought it over before sighing. "Fine. But your payment is getting cut in half."

"I understand. It was nice doing business with-" Kurt hung up before he could even finish the thought.

Kurt wore gloves just in case the police—or as Puck referred to them "the pigs"—decided to get involved and tried to pin it on him. He doubted things would escalate to that point but his life was just one worst case scenario followed by another.

After Glee club he waited for Quinn to walk out of the school, going as far as to make sure her car left the parking lot before he ventured to her locker. He opened it with ease and began examining the contents.

For someone who was such an anomaly—she was practically the Regina George of McKinley—her locker was incredibly average. She had a few books on the top shelf, pictures posted here and there: all of them outdated save from the one of Beth sitting on her lap and the two of them smiling. No pictures of Finn. Or Puck. There was one of her, Mercedes, and Rachel.

Kurt realized all at once that Quinn didn't have friends. Not really. He knew for a fact that Mercedes and Rachel constantly talked behind her back. All the guys in Glee sort of avoided her. The cheerleaders treated her as if her fall from grace was lethal; like her failure was contagious.

In a very weird way, her only  _real_ friend was Kurt.

And he was currently violating her privacy in a way he was very ashamed of. But that didn't stop him. He'd uproot her entire life if it meant she'd leave him alone.

Whatever happened to her, he'd swear in the end she did it to herself.

It took a bit of searching, but he'd found everything he'd been looking for in the form of a note. When he read it he was shocked to the point of paralysis. Not knowing how to react, he simply pocketed it.

* * *

The next day Kurt saw results almost immediately. He came to see a group of kids crowded around Quinn's locker as she shouted obscenities, throwing books and papers down on the floor as she searched for an item that she'd never find.

"Where is it?" She yelled; her voice shrill and piercing as she ripped off photos and tossed away old hats and jackets.

Feeling responsible he pushed past the crowd of people watching her with transfixed expressions, like animals waiting for their prey to die before they pounced.

Animals. They were all animals. Vicious and cruel and no conscience to account for them. And Kurt was an animal, too. Only keen on his own survival.

When he finally made it to Quinn he placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to turn around suddenly and stare at him as if she didn't quite see him, but was looking at something just behind him.

"Come on, we have to talk." He said soothingly, leading her away from the crowd of people and cringing at the way her hand shivered in his own. He had to pretend he wasn't the cause. Finally he found what seemed to be a vacant classroom, and he sat opposite of Quinn.

"I have the letter." He admitted, and upon that declaration she visibly calmed. Out of all the people who could have stolen it Kurt apparently wasn't her worst option. She seemed to think she could handle him. Keep him in check.

"And I assume you read it?" She asked in a voice so calm and deliberate it disturbed him more than her hysterics.

He nodded and her mouth pressed into a thin line, as if trying very hard not to laugh.

"What are you waiting for?" She demanded suddenly. "Go ahead. Tell  _them_. Tell the whole god damn school! Tell them how…how  _vile_  I am. They'd love every minute of it."

Kurt flinched at each word as if it were a dagger aimed toward him.  _This_ was the Quinn he'd known and feared. He wondered what took her so long to make an appearance. Possibly the fact that she was drugged out of her mind half the time.

"Stop that, Quinn. Everyone loves you." Kurt said, almost spitefully. He just didn't understand how someone so lucky could take so much for granted.

Quinn was shaking now; not violently but a continual shudder that ran through her body. Like a leaf caught in a summer breeze; flower petals dancing in sun-warmed air. And all the while, even in crisis, she was still so pretty. And god, who wouldn't sell their soul to be that beautiful?

She laughed a little, and even that was gentle; the sound of chimes clinking together when the wind blew past them.

"Everyone  _hates_ me." She said, and that sound was so  _harsh_ and  _raw_ and  _ugly_ that it made Kurt flinch. "You don't think I hear the comments? Feel the stares? They're all waiting for me to screw up again."

Kurt really stared at Quinn, really looked at her square on. The illusion was altered slightly. He could still see her shaking but it was no longer gentle, but disconcerting. Her eyes were rimmed red and dark tear-stains marred her cheeks.

"Tell me," She said with faux-gentleness. "Tell me you don't see me differently now. Now that you know what I did to Beth."

She stared hard at him now, and Kurt was left speechless.

She laughed again, but this time it had a desperate sound to it; it was bitter; the equivalent of bile rising in one's throat. "Sweet, sweet Beth. My Beth. And I wanted to give her everything. Everything my parents couldn't afford to give me."

Kurt didn't understand. Quinn's parents gave her everything. Beautiful clothes, cosmetic surgeries; the works.

"And maybe Beth won't grow up to look like me. And that'll be  _okay_. She'll be pretty where it counts." Quinn continued, eyes unfocused and voice affected with a warmth that Kurt had never known she possessed.

"And she'll love me. And I'll love her."

Quinn's disposition changed for melancholic to furious in a matter of moments. "And then they  _tried to take her away from me._ And I couldn't have that. You understand that, right?"

The facts were this. The letter Kurt had found was from social services. It had seemed as if Quinn had written them to find out how Beth was doing and they wrote back a long, lengthy response. It was only the ending that piqued his interest:

_Although due to your current mental state, you are still unfit to take care of this child. By endangering her life you have forfeited privileges to be in contact with her. Your deliberate attempt to harm her made her foster parents request that you do not resume contact, but they wish you all the best with your continued road to recovery._

_Signed,_

_Daniela Castaneda_

_Human Resources_

The reason Quinn had been away was because she had tried to hurt, possibly kill her child, got off by an insanity plea, and was in treatment for said insanity. He figured his scandal would pale in comparison.

"I won't tell anyone." Kurt assured her. "So long as you promise to keep quiet about Blaine and I."

Quinn's eyes lit up then, latching onto the information. "You and who? Are you talking about Mr. Anderson?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Don't play dumb, Quinn. I got your letter."

"…the what?" She asked. "Kurt, I really don't know what you're talking about."

"The  _letter_ you wrote. And stuffed in my locker."

"I didn't write you any letter." She assured him. "I didn't even  _know_ about…I mean, I knew you were with someone. You made that much obvious. But I never…he's not really who I thought…" She stopped speaking then, seemingly wanting to say more but figuring it wasn't the time or place.

Kurt let that information sit with him. All at once he knew Quinn was telling the truth. All of her past actions had been to protect his privacy. She suspected he was in a relationship, but she never figured out with who. Which meant someone else wrote the letter.

"It wouldn't kill you to be less obvious, by the way." Quinn said. "I'd invest in more  _scarves_." She added pointedly, referring to a hickey he had in plain sight.

He could tell by Quinn's amused grin that he'd probably turned a horrible shade of red.

"Your secret's safe with me. And I know I can expect the same from you." She added, reaching a hand out for them to shake on it.

And they did.

They stayed like that for a while; the two of them. Kurt had no idea how long. But eventually Quinn reached into her purse and began to reapply her make-up, glaring at the mirror with a fierce determination. She applied her make-up with violent strokes, quickly covering up any sign that she had been crying.

"You know, Kurt," She said as she dabbed concealer on her cheeks, "We have a lot in common."

Kurt turned to her, watching Quinn as she made her transformation. She went from fragile to confident in a matter of moments. Her voice was steady and sure.

"How are you anything like me?" he asked, not seeing the resemblance at all.

"We're self-destructive." she answered. "We search for love and acceptance in places we had no business looking in to begin with."

And with that she put the finishing touches on her make-up and snapped her purse shut, exiting the classroom without so much as an explanation.


	24. Chapter 24

Quinn Fabray hated herself.

When she was little she had a pretty good relationship with God. She was fearful of him, yes, but she truly believed that he loved her. And that he heard her prayers. Whenever good things happened to her, she attributed them to God and the power of prayer.

He could hear her. She was special. And sometimes, she could hear him, too.

_He loved me, He loved me, He loved me._

She now knew she wasn't special. She sometimes thought God hated her. That God had moved on. He'd found some other little girl with a pure heart. Someone who wasn't a vindictive slut. Someone who didn't attempt murder. He saw right through her guise, knew that she was suffering from something other than Post-Partum, but rather a wickedness of the heart. Even if she got a plea bargain in court—six months in a rehabilitation center—she'd soon get a more permanent punishment.

He abandoned her. She turned into a vile, selfish little thing and he hated her.

But she was tired. Tired of beating herself up over the mistakes she'd made. She wanted to be happy, even if it was the last thing she deserved. And the pills didn't help with that. They only made her numb. Numb to suffering and happiness alike.

So she went home that afternoon and flushed them down the toilet.

She envied Kurt. She wished she could be that open and innocent. And in that way she clung to him; hoped that by looking out for him she'd be seeking some sort of redemption for herself.

Which was why the news of his relationship with the chemistry teacher deeply disturbed her. It just didn't fit. He was supposed to be one of the good guys, supposed to stay out of harm's way. She wanted to say something when she first found out but she knew her advice would fall on deaf ears.

But she would not watch Kurt throw his life away just for the sake of feeling loved. Because once, a long time ago, she had done the same.

And she was still suffering for it.

* * *

"Dude, you can't just rat me out like that." Finn exclaimed. "It's not cool."

"I didn't  _rat you out_." Kurt argued. "Rachel asked me where you were. I told her you were at Puck's."

"She called me saying she just ran into Puck at Wal-Mart!" Finn said, shoving the phone in Kurt's face to highlight his point.

"Not my problem. But here's a brilliant idea: If you wanted space, you should have just  _told her_."

Finn paused. "Wait, I can do that?"

Kurt nodded. "Revolutionary, I know." He left the living room so his step-brother could digest the new information.

He didn't have time to deal with Finn's drama because he was too busy ignoring his own. It had been about two days since the whole incident with Quinn and the two of them hadn't discussed it since. He didn't even begin to ponder the letter, starting to suspect it was some ill-worded prank.

He would have even thought it to be a hallucination if it weren't for the fact that he had tangible proof in the drawer of his room.

But he'd just ignore its existence for one night. He was going to Blaine's apartment and they'd enjoy each other's company and his paranoia would be a thing of the past.

* * *

Kurt waited until six to leave. He lied, of course, saying he was going to Quinn's house since he knew she'd cover for him. But the truth was he was taking almost an 45 minute long drive to Westerville, where Blaine's new apartment was.

It took him a while and a lot of yelling at his GPS, but he finally pulled up to the fancy apartment complex, where he was greeted by a doorman. An actual honest to god  _door man_  in the middle of Ohio. He took the elevator up to Blaine's floor and found his room number, where he pressed the doorbell.

When the door opened he was greeted with the sight of Blaine, hair disheveled and dressed completely casual. He had a phone pressed between his ear and shoulder, a cookbook in one hand, while his other hand rested on the doorknob.

"You're here early." He said, then into the phone, "No, not you. I'll call you later, San. Yeah. Night." He gestured for Kurt to walk in as he locked up behind him and hung up the phone.

"I uh…I tried to cook for you." Blaine admitted sheepishly. "But I'm not that great at it. So I apologize ahead of time if it sucks."

No one had ever cooked dinner for Kurt before, at least not in a romantic context. Kurt had shown up expecting a night of movies and popcorn, not expecting Blaine to go to such lengths for him. He smiled so widely his face hurt.

"I'm sure it won't suck." Kurt said, surveying the apartment and décor. It was a step up from the hotel, that was for sure. And there was more than one room, which was always a plus.

It felt warm and homey and very  _Blaine_.

Blaine smiled. "Uh…you can take a seat on the sofa. I'd let you in the kitchen but I'm not done setting up."

"Setting up, huh? Fancy." Kurt sat on the leather couch and picking up a copy of  _Times_ magazine to flip through.

"That was the goal." Blaine said with a lopsided grin before turning the corner and disappearing to what Kurt assumed was the kitchen.

* * *

It was a full twenty minutes before Blaine came back, looking a little more put together. "Sorry, I was a bit preoccupied earlier. I didn't have time to tell you how great you looked."

Kurt looked down a bit bashfully, a smile playing on his lips. He never really stopped smiling around him. "You're not so bad yourself."

Blaine rolled his eyes fondly and led him to the kitchen, where there were two plates set on an intricate table cloth, flanked by two wine glasses, a bottle of wine in the center.

"I would have lit a candle but I figured that would be overkill."

"It's wonderful." Kurt said, blown away. It was such a little gesture but it meant so much to him. He took a seat and waiting for Blaine to do the same. Instead Blaine simply got up and poured them both a glass of wine, before sitting down across from him.

"You're not actually going to let me drink this, are you?" Kurt asked, holding the wine glass up the way he'd seen them do it in the movies.

"You're under my supervision. It's fine." Blaine said, laughing when he saw Kurt's attempt at being cultured. "And you can hold it normally, you know."

Kurt did just that, not needing a mirror to know his slight embarrassment was apparent on his face. He tried to act as mature as possible around Blaine but sometimes brief instances of childishness completely messed with his image.

He took a sip, expecting the wine to be sweet considering it was made with grape juice but it had a bite to it, one that made him scrunch up his face at the abrasive flavor.

He pushed the glass away. "I don't like it."

Blaine chuckled again. "You're adorable."

They ate their food and had light conversation. Blaine had made pasta, explaining that it was the only thing he knew how to make being that his family used to have it every Sunday and it was nearly impossible to screw up. Kurt assured him it turned out just fine and that it was great and that  _he_ was great.

For the sake of it Kurt finished the glass of wine, simply enjoying the warm feeling it gave him and getting used to the taste. It wasn't something he'd want to have all the time, but he figured he could tolerate it.

Especially when the taste came from Blaine's mouth.

It didn't take long for the two of them to find their way to the couch, kissing and touching and edging closer and closer over boundaries.

A hand ghosted just under Kurt's shirt, tracing the bare skin. But just as abruptly as things started, Blaine pulled away.

"You should get going. It's late." Blaine said, eyes clouded over and voice lower than Kurt was used to hearing, sending a delightful shiver up his spine.

"I'll just drive back in the morning. It's safer." Kurt explained, knowing Blaine would be opposed to him driving around in a neighborhood he didn't know at night.

Blaine seemed tense for a moment at the thought of Kurt staying the night. "Uh…yeah. Okay. Sure. Do you mind the sofa? Or do you want to sleep in my bed?"

Kurt was confused for only a moment, until he realized that for some crazy reason Blaine wanted them to sleep in separate rooms.

"I don't mind us sharing a bed. We've done it before."

"Right. Okay. I'll just go find a t-shirt and some sweat pants you can borrow. I'll be right back." He said, seemingly making up an excuse just to be away from Kurt.

He came back a few minutes later with a Bruce Springsteen t-shirt and sweat pants that sagged a bit on Kurt's body due to his slight frame. It wasn't until they were in bed that Blaine turned to Kurt and voiced his concerns.

"Does it ever feel like I'm pressuring you?" He asked, brushing a flyaway hair from Kurt's forehead.

Kurt shook his head. "Never. I like what we do now. And it just…it gives me a lot to look forward to, I guess."

"So I did pressure you then?" He said, a little sharper than he had intended.

"No." Kurt said quickly, feeling kind of reprimanded by Blaine's tone. He didn't understand where all of this was coming from. They hadn't really  _done_ much of anything. Blaine always pulled away whenever things started to get too intense. Sure, there were wandering hands from time to time but always over a layer or two of clothing.

"Yes I did." He corrected. "You're going to want to experience things sooner because we'll be in the heat of the moment. But you won't be ready. "

Kurt had no proper argument for that, so he stayed silent. He figured that would be best.

Blaine groaned at Kurt's silence and pushed himself up so he was sitting on the side of the bed. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea." He said quietly, his face in his hands.

Kurt's heart stopped. "Maybe what isn't such a good idea?"

"This." He said, pushing himself up so he was standing and paced in a small spot. "This whole thing."

"What?" Kurt felt numb, not quite believing what he was hearing.

"I'm taking all these amazing experiences away from you, Kurt!" He snapped suddenly. "And you're  _letting_ me. You're not even putting up a fight."

"So you're breaking up with me." Kurt said, but it was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes... No... I don't know! You've got to understand how hard this is for me. I want you."

"Apparently not enough." His voice cracked.

Blaine sighed and moved back to the bed, leaning close to Kurt. "I do want you." He assured quietly. "More than I've ever wanted anything. But I'm being selfish. You deserve more. You should be able to talk about us with your friends, go out on group dates, god, something  _normal_."

"I don't want that." Kurt insisted. "Well, I do. But not with someone else. I want that with you."

"But you can never have that with me, Kurt. Don't you get it? Not while we're in this town. All this sneaking around, this is all we are. We'll never be anything more."

"As long as I have you I don't care." Kurt said.

Blaine was silent then, head hanging shamefully with the incredible mess he'd made of things.

"Did you hear me? I said I. Don't. Care."

Blaine searched Kurt's face, for something, for anything; he just needed a bigger reason to leave him, he needed something more. But he found nothing. And he said nothing, he simply grabbed Kurt's cheeks and pulled their lips together in a hard kiss.

Kurt relaxed into the familiarity of it, glad Blaine was done being silly. But then things quickly took a turn when Blaine pushed Kurt down roughly and climbed on top of him, only breaking the bruising kiss to speak. "I could do it." He said, voice absolutely wrecked.

He kissed him again before Kurt could even gasp, his hands gripping his wrists and pinning them to the bed. "I could do anything and you'd take it, because it's all new and exciting for you." He nipped a little roughly at Kurt's jaw before pulling back and simply looking down at him. "Doesn't that scare you?"

Kurt blinked up at him, completely shocked at this side of Blaine, a side he'd only seen once before when they first kissed. It was frenzied and driven and could be described as nothing short of  _primal_.

But even then Kurt knew one thing to be true: "I trust you."

"I know." Blaine said, his lips barely brushing against Kurt's; the gentleness nature a stark contrast to the way he was holding him down. "And it terrifies the hell out of me."

"I don't see why."

"Because you're  _naïve,_ Kurt." Blaine said, tone harsh. "You don't understand the effect you have on people. You're fucking out of your  _mind_. Coming to my house in the middle of the night like this. No one even knows where you are, do they?"

Pressed for words, Kurt simply shook his head.

"God, suppose if I were some…some monster. I could really hurt you. And no one would even know where to find you." Blaine said. " _That's_ why I'm scared, Kurt. You make it so easy for people to take advantage of you. You're too trusting."

"I…I guess I never considered the possibility of anything going wrong." Kurt admitted, and Blaine just shook his head in response, placing a fond kiss to Kurt's temple.

"Of course you didn't. I feel like I can't even let you out of my sight."

Kurt knew Blaine had a point. Quinn's words came back to him. Maybe he was self-destructive.

Kurt was surprised when Blaine smoothed a thumb over his cheek, wiping away a tear he didn't even remember shedding.

"Shit. Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." Blaine said, voice laced with guilt and worry.

"It's fine. I'm fine." Kurt lied, pulling him down for a gentle kiss to highlight the fact.

He'd kiss him again and again if it meant not having to think about stupid Quinn and her stupid words that never made any sense.


	25. Chapter 25

Kurt woke up the next morning alone in bed. Well in  _a_ bed. Specifically, Blaine's bed. He blinked, looking around and trying to get his bearings. Across the room was Blaine, who was saying something to someone on his phone, but Kurt ignored that in favor of staring at the beautifully sculpted contours of his back.

It was weird how he noticed the details now. Before Blaine, it was all about abs and eyes and biceps; the typical aspects of the male anatomy that most people admire. But now he appreciated the less notable things. The slope of the shoulders, the slight dip near the small of his back, the little hairs that stuck out near the nape of his neck.

He watched as Blaine ran a hand through his hair, a word floating above the rest of his distracted thoughts: flustered. Blaine seemed incredibly flustered.

His sleep muddled mind picked up on bits and pieces of what Blaine was saying, his voice sounded worried and he was constantly referring to a person named "San".

"San…now's not a good time..."

A horrible thought flitted across Kurt's mind. What if it was another guy? It seemed a bit too cinematic to be true, and Kurt could hardly imagine what San stood for—Santiago? Ew. Sandy? Yeah, right.—so he'd dismissed it immediately.

"God, fine! Fine. Give me ten minutes. I'm indecent." Blaine said, hanging up the phone and sighing, saying a string of expletives under his breath before turning around, seeing that Kurt had been awake and had witnessed the whole exchange.

"Morning, gorgeous." Blaine said, smiling briefly—Kurt self-consciously tried to fix his bed hair—before his disposition quickly changed back to overwhelmed. "I'm going to have to ask a really odd favor of you."

"Favor?" Kurt inquired, eyebrow raised. Blaine laughed.

"God, no. Not that kind of favor." Blaine assured him. "I just…a friend of mine is outside. Like, right now. And I'm trying to make her leave but she won't so…"

"You need me to hide." Kurt finished for him.

"Yes." Blaine said, grinning apologetically. "Only for ten minutes. Fifteen, tops."

Kurt pretended to mind more than he really did. He got out of bed, stubbornly taking the quilt with him. When Blaine showed him a closet he could hide in, Kurt actually scoffed. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

"Yes. Now please get in. She's very impatient."

Casting a glare in his direction, Kurt got into the closet that was considerably smaller than his own. He made himself comfortable on the floor, taking his phone out to occupy himself.

* * *

Blaine was having a miniature heart-attack. He had a  _student_ in his closet, an uninvited friend waiting at his door, and a killer migraine. He took a moment to pull on a shirt before padding into the living room and opening the door. He was unsurprised to see Santana Lopez in all her glory, donning a floral print sundress, black pumps, an overly expensive purse slung over her shoulder, and an almost maniacal grin.

"Sorry to come unannounced." She said, smirking as she walked into Blaine's new apartment. "I heard you got a new place and I had to come check it out myself."

"A call would have been nice." Blaine said, looking far less amused.

"I did call you."

"Yeah, when you were  _at the door_." He stressed, blaming his headache and the early hour for his inability to keep his patience.

She narrowed her eyes at him before turning on her heels, managing to "accidently" step on Blaine's toes as she did so. Ignoring his cry of pain, she surveyed the living room before humming in approval. Seeing nothing to criticize, she entered the kitchen with him tailing her.

The first thing that she noticed was the nearly empty wine bottle laid out on the wooden table; the only evidence of what Blaine did the night before. She popped it open and took a swig.

"Santana."

"What? I'm celebrating your new bachelor pad." She said, holding out the bottle to offer him the rest.

Blaine took it and thought, fuck it, lifting the bottle to his mouth to drink the rest of its contents.

"Seems like you were celebrating too." Santana said with a knowing look. "Is there anyone I should know about? I assume you've stopped perusing playgrounds for potential suitors."

Blaine sputtered, choking on the wine. He put the bottle down as he nearly hacked up a lung, turning to her warily when the worst of it subsided.

"Holy shit." She said excitedly, pretending to have discovered major scandal. "Blaine Anderson, you animal."

Blaine rolled his eyes, knowing that she was just teasing, considering the only one who knew about him pursuing his feelings for Kurt was Cooper, who definitely was not dumb enough to go blabbing to Santana.

"You've got a sick sense of humor."

"And  _you've_ got a sick imagination." Santana countered as she headed out of the kitchen, walking back through the living room before poking her head into the small bathroom.

"Does the plumbing work?" She asked.

"The plumbing's  _fine_." He said, getting increasingly irritated.

"Good. Just checking." She said, heading down the hallway to the only bedroom in the apartment. Blaine felt his heart racing out of his chest, hoping she wouldn't feel the need to go sifting through his closet.

She did a three-sixty, slowing turning in place and really taking in the sights of the room.

"God, this needs to be re-carpeted." She said disapprovingly.

"I've only moved in two days ago."

"I'll help you later. While we're at it we can repaint the living room. I'm thinking a nice olive green..."

She walked across the room towards the closet. "And I assume here is where you're hiding the  _good_ stuff. You know, skeletons, all that jazz?" And with that she turned to the closet, handle resting on the brass doorknob.

"Santana!" Blaine said, panicking. She turned to him with an eyebrow raised. "Uh…did you want to go out to breakfast? I don't really have much here yet but there's a really good diner around the corner."

"Sure?" She said hesitantly. "No need to get your panties in a bunch. We'll get you fed."

Santana headed outside to her car to wait for Blaine to get ready, and when Blaine had made sure the door was locked, both with a key and the bolt, he went back into his room. He unlocked the closet door to find Kurt wrapped up in a blanket and engrossed in whatever he was doing on his phone screen.

"Is she gone?" Kurt asked, not even looking up from his screen.

"For now." Blaine said, offering a hand to help Kurt up as he stood up and got out of the closet.

Kurt waited for the ill-timed pun, but when it never came he decided he'd forgive Blaine for making him stay in a closet to begin with.

"I think I'll head home now." Kurt said, not even bothering to change and just gathering his clothes from the previous night, which were draped over a nearby chair. "Last night was really fun. Thank you." He kissed Blaine's cheek, causing the teacher grinning stupidly.

"You're always welcome." Blaine said, grabbing a hold of Kurt's hand and placing a kiss to the wrist. "See you Monday?"

"See you Monday." Kurt confirmed, forcing himself to leave before he got tempted into staying just a little while longer.

* * *

When Finn called at nine that morning asking Quinn what time Kurt would get home she lied through her teeth for him without thinking twice about it. Afterward, she called Kurt to, admittedly, rub it in.

He picked up on the third ring. "Yes?"

"I told Finn you'd be home in half an hour. So tell lover boy goodbye."

"Blaine. His name is Blaine."

"Say that a little louder? Just in case the whole world didn't hear you." Quinn snapped, reminding him what this was really about.

A sigh. A pause. Quinn could hear his pride crumble. "Thank you for covering for me."

"It was nothing." Quinn said. She almost said something else. Almost asked him  _So is he really worth it?_

But she refrained. Because she'd scare him away. She needed him to trust her first. Believe in her. Only then would he listen to reason as opposed to the stupid human ailment called the heart.

* * *

Kurt drove through Westerville and had to ask for directions only twice, making it home in a little under forty-five minutes. His dad had already gone to a meeting and Carole greeted him with breakfast.

"Just in case you didn't get a chance to eat at Quinn's." She said, setting the plate down in front of him.

It had been a while and he was still getting used to the idea of a mother figure. Carole was wonderful, but he'd never be able to call her mom without feeling like he was using profanity.

Finn sat opposite from him, eating his traditional breakfast of carbs and heart attack on a stick. He saw Kurt sit across from him and grinned, the chewed food in his mouth completely exposed and causing Kurt to look back in disgust.

Finn realized his error, closed his mouth, and mumbled, "Sorry." and Kurt simply shook his head fondly, waiting for the day that Finn would realize that apologies weren't necessary between them. They were implied and never needed to be said.

After Finn finished his third glass of orange juice he got up from the table. "Wanna go to Puck's house later?"

"Depends. Do you two have anything planned aside from playing video games?" Kurt asked.

"We're also gonna talk about Rachel and Lauren." Finn said honestly.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "I think I'll miss this one. Send my regards to Noah."

"Your loss, dude." Finn said, passing him to exit the kitchen and probably change into a random t-shirt he found lying on the floor before he left.

The only people left in the kitchen were Kurt and Carole, who was busy washing the dishes in the sink. Impulsively, Kurt stood alongside her and picked up a sponge, helping her.

"You should go out." Carole said after a moment of silence. "Call Mercedes."

"She's at church."

"Rachel?"

Kurt scoffed. "And interrupt her morning yoga?"

"Then go with Finn. " Carole suggested. Well, more like ordered.

"But  _Carole_." Kurt all but whined.

"Go. And, for the love of god, make sure Finn puts on a clean shirt before you do."

And that's how Kurt ended up spending his Sunday at Noah Puckerman's house.

* * *

Puck's room was a disaster, but Kurt hadn't expected much less. Between the plastic cups littered all over the floor and the photos of scantily clothed chicks on motorcycles papering his wall, Kurt didn't know which one to grimace at first. He had a loveseat in front of his TV that looked like it might have been the product of dumpster diving. Puck and Finn immediately sat down on it.

Kurt settled on sitting on the edge of his bed—trying his best not to imagine the monstrosities that probably occurred on the mattress—and watched the two of them set up the game console.

"Are you sure you don't want to play?" Finn asked. "We'd go easy on you."

"He'd would have to go easy on  _you_. He beats you like, every time, dude."

"Not  _everytime_. Sometimes I let you win, don't I?"

"Not that I can recall." Kurt answered truthfully; internally grinning at the glare Finn shot his way.

He spent the next half hour listening to Finn and Puck yell at each other and violently press buttons on their controllers. They had a "no pausing" rule so whenever one of them had to go to the bathroom Kurt stepped in for them and played until they got back. Eventually the three of them got hungry and went downstairs to the kitchen, which was completely barren, so they put money together for some pizza.

And, admittedly, Kurt  _sort of_ had fun. God damn it, Carole.

They moved their operations to Puck's living room as they waited on the pizza.

It was right around the time that Puck and Finn started talking chicks that Kurt successfully checked out of the conversation. He scrolled through facebook on his phone, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at some of the ridiculous statuses he was reading.

His facebook stalking was interrupted by a text he'd gotten from Blaine.

**Blaine:** _So…sorry about this morning. Again._

**Kurt:** _It's fine. I didn't mind the closet. I'm adaptable._

**Blaine:** _I can't tell whether you're being witty or literal._

**Kurt:** _Aren't I allowed to be both?_

**Blaine:** _Ha. I suppose. Also, sorry about last night._

**Kurt:** _What about last night?_

**Blaine:** _The part where I scared you just to prove a point. I just get very…passionate. I'm sorry._

**Kurt:** _It's fine. You weren't wrong._

**Blaine:** _I was a little wrong..But you did look pretty great underneath me._

Kurt nearly choked on the air he was breathing, for god's sake. Blaine couldn't just say things like that without at least a three day warning written in advance. He texted him just that.

It was as he waited for a reply that he realized the room had gone uncharacteristically silent. He turned to see Puck and Finn regarding him, Puck with a weirdly proud grin and Finn resembling someone who might be suffering from food poisoning.

"I know that face." Puck said. " _That_ is the face of someone about to get it in."

"It's not that Chandler dude, is it?" Finn asked, on the verge of scowling.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "No. Chandler and I are just friends, remember?"

"So it's someone else." Puck reasoned, wearing a wolfish grin. "Damn, you work fast."

Kurt thanked the deities that he had Finn as a step- brother as opposed to Puck. He may not be book smart, but the ex-convict had a way of  _knowing_ things.

"It's actually Quinn, genius." Kurt quipped. "We're on prom committee together, remember?"

Puck seemed to scowl at the mention of Quinn, something Kurt knew was a sore topic for him. But it took the attention away from the truth and that's all that really mattered.

"Whatever. Can't you talk about that girly shit with her some other time?" Puck said.

"Dude." Finn warned, narrowing his eyes at Puck.

"I'm just saying." Puck said, and Kurt was getting ready to tell him  _exactly_ what he thought of Puck's opinion, but like a godsend the bell rang for their pizza.

And, as any teenager knows, pizza solves every problem. Tension dissolved as soon as Puck took his first bite, and soon they were talking glee club songs, all hurtful words and forbidden topics forgotten.

* * *

"How did breakfast go?" Kurt asked, lying in bed that night as he talked to Blaine. He'd finished most of his work and had been half-heartedly skimming his copy of "The Glass Menagerie" when Blaine called.

"It was great. Santana spent most of the time ranting about wedding plans. You know, flowers, color schemes, all that dull stuff." Blaine explained. "I won't bore you with the details."

Kurt would have loved the details, but decided not to hint at that. "When's the wedding?"

"Next Summer." Blaine said. "I promised her I'd be in New York for the wedding but she's hell-bent on having me go back with her this week."

"That would be more than a year in advance." Kurt pointed out, confused.

Blaine laughed a little, but the sound did nothing to assuage Kurt's suspicion. "Exactly. She wants me to  _move in_  with her. In New York. Crazy, right?"

Kurt couldn't help but wonder if Blaine was at least tempted by the offer. New York had been his dream before Sebastian's job in Ohio came into the picture. And Blaine was  _smart_. Probably the smartest guy Kurt knew. He'd do well in New York. He'd have no problem finding a job. And in the next ten or twenty years he'd probably be accepting a Nobel Prize for discovering the cure to aids or cancer.

No one in their right mind would give up such an amazing opportunity.

Blaine must have read into the silence. "Kurt? You still there?"

"Yes."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

There was quiet, as if Blaine was choosing his next words very carefully.

"We don't need to keep secrets from each other, right?" He settled on saying. And Kurt supposed he had a point. But he didn't want to seem immature; didn't want to stir up trouble over something so menial.

But he didn't want to lie to Blaine, either.

"I'm worried. About..." Kurt trailed off, not sure how to phrase it. "About everything, I guess. There's no one really holding you to Ohio anymore."

And then Blaine laughed. Something Kurt would have thought of as mocking had it not been for the gentle timbre of it.

"You don't get it, do you?" Blaine asked, sounding almost in awe at the fact. "You don't understand how I feel about you."

Blaine was right. Kurt didn't understand. He couldn't imagine what it would be like, to be so important to someone to make them stay when all they wanted to do was leave.

"I'm not going anywhere anytime soon." Blaine assured him. "So do us both a favor and stop worrying so much."

And Kurt believed him.


	26. Chapter 26

The dressing room was filled with nervous chatter as the members of New Directions awaited their turn onstage. There was scattered yet positive energy in the room, all of them psyched to show off their months of hard work.

And that was fine. At first. But then Rachel actually got  _on top_ of the table, as if she wasn't imposing enough at her outstanding height of five foot zero. "Before we go on I just want to say something." She announced. Cue a litany of groans and eye rolls.

"We've all contributed to making this performance the best that it can be. We have toiled under harsh, unreasonable conditions; conditions that would violate my contract once my application to the Actors Guild goes through. And naturally, I've put in more work than all of you combined, but-"

"Um, Rach. I'd get to the point." Finn mumbled helpfully, picking up on the near murderous glances that the other members were giving her.

"Right." She said brightly, completely oblivious to their glares. "I guess what I'm trying to say is...go team!" She needed Finn's assistance to carefully get off of the table so she was back on level ground.

"Nicely put, Rachel." Mr. Schue said with a tight-lipped smile, trying not to look too relieved when Rachel took her seat.

Kurt had ignored most of the spectacle, too busy helping Mercedes with her eye shadow. He was blending it in with his fingers, leaving his fingertips covered in a shimmery golden residue.

"Excited for your solo?" Mercedes asked, eyes still closed as Kurt fussed over the little details. He couldn't quite get the effect he wanted because his hands kept shaking. It had started the moment they entered the concert hall; a slight trembling that he couldn't get under control.

"Technically, it's a duet." Kurt corrected, looking on the dresser before selecting a bottle of liquid eyeliner. "Don't move." He said as he got ready to apply it.

"Whatever. Duet, solo, it's still more than I got."

"It's only like, half a song. Rachel's got two whole songs to herself."

He messed up on the second eye. Cursing under his breath, he took a napkin and tried to fix his mistake.

"We could get rid of her, you know." She mumbled. "Me and Tina made an eleven step plan."

Although Rachel was his friend by default—you had to be nice to your brother's girlfriend—that didn't mean he didn't join in on the scheming every now and again.

"If it doesn't involve murder then I'm in." He joked, putting the finishing touches on her make-up. "Open your eyes."

Mercedes looked in the mirror and admired his work, nodding in approval. "Not bad." She turned to him, and as if reading his mind, she said, "Boy, quit being nervous. You'll be fine."

"But what if I forget the lyrics? Or my voice cracks? Or I accidently trip on something?" He ranted, her reassurance doing nothing but releasing a waterfall of insecurities.

"One, you never forget your lyrics. Two, we all did vocal warm-ups before we came here. And three, if you trip you better keep on singing." Mercedes crossed her arms. "Any more concerns?"

"What if the judges just hate my voice?" He asked quietly, revealing his realconcern. He knew he and Quinn had more than enough practice, and that he wasn't careless enough to trip. But the register of his voice was something completely out of his control. "I mean, it's not what they're used to hearing."

"Your voice is different." Mercedes agreed. "But different's what we need."

Kurt calmed down slightly when Mercedes pulled him into a much needed hug. When he pulled away he saw Tina who seemed to be waiting for the chance to talk to him.

She was holding a beautiful rose that Mike had gotten her. He smiled a bit to himself, always finding it cute when couples got each other roses, despite the cliché. But there was something a little off about this one. Kurt usually saw couples exchange red roses, as a sign of love or devotion.

This one was white.

"Delivery for Kurt Hummel." She said, handing it to him along with a little card that came with it. "One of the stagehands said someone dropped this off for you." She explained upon his confused look.

Before even opening the card he knew who it was from, and he couldn't hide his smile. He opened it to see a simple message.

_Break a leg! (That means good luck, right? Or is that strictly a theater thing? Because I don't want you to really break your leg. Or any body part.) And quit worrying. (Yes, I know for a fact you're freaking out.) You'll do wonderfully._

_-B_

Tina and Mercedes exchanged curious glances as they watched Kurt's face light up upon reading the card. He looked up to see them giving him matching smirks, knowing they were expecting him to elaborate.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" He asked, feigning ignorance.

"Who's it from?" Tina asked, not even bothering to humor his act.

"Actually, Mike got it for me. I've been meaning to tell you..." Kurt quipped, trying to keep a straight face as Mercedes laughed.

"Very funny." Tina deadpanned. "Can I read it?"

With perfect timing, a stagehand opened their door and told them that they were up in five minutes; saving Kurt the trouble of making a witty response to deflect.

"Alright guys, it's go time!" Finn announced, and everyone cheered before filing out of the room, moving to line up back-stage.

Kurt left the flower on the table and tucked the small card into his pocket before heading out of the dressing room, his fear replaced with visions of clarity. He was being irrationally nervous and he'd be fine.

On the way out he brushed shoulders with Quinn, who offered him a small smile and took his hand, giving it a little squeeze. As far as duet partners go, Kurt knew he lucked out big time without even realizing it.

* * *

Blaine sat in the audience wedged between Emma and Santana, who would have stayed home if it weren't for the promise of going to Breadstix after. Will was sitting two seats over from him and avidly watching the performance.

Well, so was Blaine, of course. Except he devoted most of his attention to one specific performer. And it was watching Kurt perform up there that he realized he was  _really_ good. Not just passable, which most kids were in high school, but he showed genuine promise.

Another person who caught his eye was the Rachel girl, whose voice was phenomenal, but Blaine hoped she'd learn to sing one day without making those funny faces.

Finn had a great voice for rock tunes, but the way he moved his body during the dance numbers was very awkward. Pretty much all of the males in the Hudmel family, aside from Kurt, vaguely resembled lumberjacks. Except now Finn looked like a lumberjack who accidentally found his way into a suit and tie.

Overall, it was an incredibly solid performance and although Santana would never admit to enjoying herself, it was hard to miss the surprised grin on her face as she watched the kids perform.

She remained decent all the way until they got into the parking lot. "So, which one did you have a dream about boning?"

If he had been drinking something he would have choked on it. "Santana!"

She laughed. "I was trying to guess but I'm still not sure. I've narrowed it down to the blonde guy and the tall one."

He had to contain his own laughter. She thought it could have been  _Finn_ , the thought just as amusing as it was nauseating. But he supposed in her defense, she had no reason to suspect it was Kurt. Because Kurt wasn't his usual "type".

"It's none of them." Blaine said. "I'm only here because Emma invited me."

"Right." Santana said, eyeing him up and down one more time before seemingly giving up on the cause. "Anyway, you promised me food. Get to it, pretty boy."

"Right. And when are you going back to New York?"

"As if you wouldn't miss me." She said. "The offer still stands, you know. Brit and I have room to spare. Just until you find a place."

Blaine sighed, turning a corner. "I like it here, weirdly enough." He lied.

She couldn't be bothered trying to convince him, too busy reapplying her lip gloss in one of the car mirrors. "Suit yourself."

Blaine would also be lying if he said her offer didn't sound tempting. But there were exciting things happening here in Lima, things he wouldn't miss for the world. Like Kurt's junior prom, or his senior year, or his graduation. Or even moments like this, performances where they only win second place but Kurt still looks so proud just to be up there.

He wanted to be there for it all. Then, and only then would he consider moving.

* * *

In class the next day he publicly congratulated both Mike and Kurt for a good performance the night before. Although they weren't first place, a privilege that was robbed from them by an all boys' school called Dalton, they still managed to earn a pretty large trophy; considerably more impressive than their "third place" certificate from last year. Also, due to a lack of competitors that year—no choirs from Illinois had registered—both clubs got to move on to Nationals.

It was after class when all of the other students cleared out that Kurt approached his desk.

"Yes, Hummel?" He inquired, looking up briefly from his paperwork.

"Thank you. For the rose, I mean." Kurt said. "It was nice."

He looked back down at his work, a small smile playing at his lips. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Kurt rolled his eyes fondly. "I'll let you finish your work." He said, leaving the classroom with a smile of his own.

* * *

Santana left the following week, making his apartment vacant once more. She had never really gotten around to helping him renovate like she promised, but the two of them had been to Home Depot and bought supplies. Then she had to leave for work, a scheduled photo shoot for the upcoming season of Falling For Dallas.

So he was left with a bunch of cans of paint, two brushes, two rollers, and a heavy sense of abandonment.

But then he realized he knew someone else who was good with that kind of stuff.

"Are you busy?" Was the first thing he asked.

"Not really." Kurt said, putting the phone down to yell something at someone in the background, presumably Finn. "Why?"

"How good are you with a paint brush?"

Kurt had been there within the hour, fully decked out in his idea of painting attire—an old shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a pair of jeans overalls, and old converse that had various things drawn on it in sharpie.

Even his work clothes were adorable.

He also came with his own  _supplies_ , stuff Blaine hadn't even thought of like paint tape and plastic pans, as well as a plastic bucket that they could use if they wanted to mix colors.

Blaine wondered why he hadn't asked Kurt to help him with the place sooner. He was born to do this kind of thing.

"Where do your parents think you are?"

"Volunteering at a community theater three towns over."

"What time do they expect you back?"

"Late."

And that was that. They quickly got to work.

Blaine was surprised at how efficient Kurt could be when he was doing work unrelated to chemistry. He helped move some furniture out of the way, which helped assure Blaine that Kurt wasn't as helpless as he seemed at times. And soon they were painting, rollers dipped in mint green to go over the originally beige walls.

"Keep painting in the same direction." Kurt instructed, seeing Blaine go from horizontally to vertically whenever he felt like it.

"Right." Blaine said, the hint of a smirk on his face as he adjusted his painting pattern.

If Kurt caught his smirk he wasn't letting on, simply continuing to paint the wall in silence. Only fifteen minutes later and Blaine found his hands were covered in paint, as well as bits of his neck that he may have touched without realizing. Kurt, on the other hand, was impeccable; not a speck of paint in sight. And Blaine didn't understand  _how_. Painting was meant to be a sloppy activity; it should leave its mark.

But Kurt looked just as pristine as he did before they even opened the paint cans. And Blaine couldn't have that. It was unfair. So, naturally, when Kurt bent over to pour more paint in the pan, Blaine's hand may or may not have wandered, and it may or may not have slapped his ass, leaving a hand-shaped print.

Kurt yelped, turning around quickly and blush quickly rising on his face. He looked down at Blaine's paint covered hands then back up to the mischievous glint in his eyes, catching him red-handed. Or green-handed.

"Was that necessary?" Kurt asked haughtily.

"Of course not." Blaine said, grinning. If there was one thing he really appreciated about Kurt it was how easy it was to get him incredibly flustered. He hadn't met someone that prone to blushing in his life. He supposed Kurt's pale skin was partly to blame, but it was mostly his fickle nature.

Blaine never thought he'd be one to find  _shyness_ attractive, of all things. But he was discovering all sorts of odd things about himself.

"Don't even think about it." Kurt said warningly, knowing fully well what Blaine was planning. "You're going to make a mess."

Naturally, Blaine closed in on him anyway, resting his hands on Kurt's waist and pulling him close. "What if I want to make a mess?" He asked quietly.

Blaine was waiting for Kurt to pinch him or elbow him in the side like he usually did whenever Blaine decided to push his buttons, but that moment didn't come. Instead he was met with the sensation Kurt's body shivering slightly against his own. And he wasn't pushing him away; instead it seemed as if Kurt were pulling him closer. Or maybe that was his imagination. Or an invisible gravitational pull that kept him constantly revolving and drifting toward Kurt but so afraid to kiss or bite or touch.

Blaine  _needed_ Kurt to push him away, he always counted on it. It was what kept their teasing and playfulness from escalating to dangerous levels; into something it couldn't be. And there was a light in Kurt's eyes, an awareness of what was happening versus what  _could_ happen and as opposed to looking freaked out or offended or scared he looked curious. Always wanting to push boundaries and take things further, further, further, until they both jumped off of that deadly cliff.

Kurt was the first to lean forward, pressing his lips to Blaine's without caution, and although they'd kissed before then this was something more toxic. And soon Kurt was pressed against the freshly painted wall; the hair at the back of his head receiving a coat of paint as well, but he couldn't find the heart to care.

He got goosebumps when he felt Kurt's nails scrape down his back through the thin 100% cotton of his Star Trek t-shirt—which he got years ago in college and it did  _not_ make him obsessed, thank you very much—and didn't think twice before pressing his thigh in between Kurt's legs.

The sound of desperation, as well as what might have been a great deal of surprise, that came out of Kurt's mouth sent blood rushing straight to where it had no business going, god damn it.

He pulled back slightly, overwhelmed with the sudden urge to watch instead of listen. Kurt met his gaze; pupils dilated and face completely flushed. Blaine watched the way Kurt's breath would hitch every time he moved his thigh; how he'd tilt his head back slightly and expose the wonderful stretch of skin along his neck.

But of course Blaine's conscience decided to kick in just then and remind him just  _who_ he had pushed against a wall.

"You're going to have to tell me to stop." Blaine mumbled, but that didn't stop him from mouthing at Kurt's jawline.

Of course Kurt did no such thing, because he seemed to be hell-bent on making Blaine's life as difficult as possible. Instead, he rocked forward, practically keening. A request. And Jesus Christ, if the kid even knew  _half of_  what he was asking for..

There was something about being in control of a situation that was so rare and foreign to him. But it was wonderful, and it left him wondering why  _everyone_ didn't want this; want to watch someone fall apart beneath them.

"We should…stop." Blaine repeated, more stern this time yet still not heeding his own warning.

"Don't stop." Kurt murmured. "Just…don't overthink it."

And as tempting as it was to just ignore his conscience and go for it; he knew he'd have to live with it afterward. Things had already gone too far and maybe he should-

But then Kurt kept making those ungodly sounds, hushed and sparse but definitely there and it just wasn't  _fair_ for Blaine to be expected to keep control in a moment like that. Kurt was the one who pulled him closer, kissing him and  _wow where the hell did he learn that from?_

It lasted mere minutes but seemed to span an eternity until Kurt's body tensed, his grip on Blaine tightening as a shiver ran through his body, mouth hanging open while all Blaine could do was stare, transfixed.

When Blaine's rational mind realized what he'd just witnessed it was enough to get him to step away slightly, hands resting on either side of Kurt's head and still close enough to watch his chest rise and fall with each breath.

"Fuck, I didn't…wow. I didn't mean for that to happen." Blaine said, resisting the urge to jump Kurt where he stood, looking at him and biting his lip in a way that was downright dangerous. "And you've got um…paint. In your hair, I mean."

Kurt absently lifted a hand up to feel for it; his hair already beginning to bristle as the paint dried. And all of a sudden he was working on unhooking the straps holding up his overalls; an action that nearly gave Blaine a heart attack.

"What are you doing?"

Kurt gave him a confused look before it dawned on him how it may have looked given what they were just doing. "Sorry, I..Can I use your shower?"

"Oh. Yeah. Down the hall, first door on the right. Clean towels are in the cupboard across from it."

"Awesome. You wouldn't happen to have hypoallergenic soap, would you?" Kurt asked, and upon Blaine's dumbfounded look simply laughed. "Kidding."

"Right. Yeah. I figured." Blaine stammered, berating himself mentally for being so  _uncool_  . Kurt should have been the one freaking out, but he was so calm and relaxed about the whole thing that it made Blaine feel like the inexperienced one.

* * *

The moment Kurt got in the shower and had the water running, he actually took the time to whisper, "Oh my god" about a few dozen times to himself. Because there was no way in hell that just happened. Kurt was almost ninety nine percent sure he had just had an encounter of the sexual variety. Once he'd calmed down enough he reached for the shampoo and worked the paint out of his hair; he tried to rationalize it in his brain. How it started was beyond him, what exactly  _happened_ was still a bit of a mystery, but all he knew is that it had been awesome.

He could finally check that activity off his adult to-do list, if he'd had enough insight to make one of those.

Well, he could always make a chart or something when he got home.

Once he rinsed out his hair, skipping the conditioner even though it pained him to do so, he wrapped a towel around himself. He got out of the shower to find clean clothes laid out for him, folded neatly and conveniently placed on a shelf.

He got dressed and headed back out to the living room; to see Blaine sitting on the couch with his face in his hands.

"We should finish painting." Kurt said, causing Blaine to look up suddenly. Whatever he'd been thinking about, it distracted him so much that he hadn't heard the shower being turned off.

"I uh…actually, I think I can handle it." Blaine said. "But thank you for coming." And upon his wording he quickly stumbled to correct himself. "Or rather…what I meant to say was…"

"Blaine." Kurt said sternly, getting him to quit ranting. "We're going to continue painting, minus the extra-curricular activities, then I'll leave. I don't leave projects half-done."

Blaine eyed him wearily. "God, I haven't…I haven't traumatized you, right? Because I didn't, I mean, I wouldn't-"

"Oh, you've thoroughly traumatized me." Kurt offered him a smile, taking Blaine's face in his hands. "Screwed me up for life, in fact. Now that that's settled, can we continue painting?"

Blaine scanned Kurt's face for a moment, in awe that he was lucky enough to know him. "You're going to be the death of me."

"I'll take that as a yes."

* * *

Two hours later and they had managed to finish the whole living room, holding normal conversation as if nothing happened. The only difference, surprisingly enough, was that there was less tension between them.

Blaine moved with an ease now, smiled easier, wasn't afraid to get close. He supposed something like what happened was Blaine's worst fear, so the fact that it happened gave him one less thing to worry about.

But Kurt was sure there were like thirty-seven or so other things that Blaine was constantly flipping shit about in that guilt addled brain of his, anyway. So there wasn't that much of an improvement.

When they'd finished Kurt worked on packing away all the things he'd brought, knowing that if he valued his newfound social freedom it would benefit him to get home at a reasonable time. It was as he reached for his clothes from earlier that Blaine piped up.

"Um, Kurt?" Blaine asked, apprehensive and vulnerable in his approach. Kurt looked up, giving him all of his attention. "If you ever wanted to bring stuff here, or something, I could clear out a drawer for you."

He stood there, shifting back and forth on his heels and looking completely uncomfortable as he waited for Kurt's response. Kurt's heart flipped in his chest, figuratively speaking, that is.

"I…yeah. Sure. That would be nice." Kurt said, offering him an assuring smile. It was a bit domestic of them, but Kurt found himself not minding it too much.

"Good. I'll do that tonight." Blaine said. "And just know if you ever need a place to relax or hideout from stress or something…you're always welcome."

"I'll keep that in mind." Kurt said, standing up with his bag of supplies in tow. "Maybe next time we could do something about the hideous carpet in your room."

Blaine laughed a little nervously. "Sounds good. I'll see you, Kurt."

"I'll see you." Kurt said, turning to walk out of the door but as an afterthought he ran up to Blaine and kissed him on the cheek. "By the way. Earlier was  _awesome_." He said, then promptly let himself out before Blaine could even react.

Kurt's absence was palpable; the apartment growing so silent that it was deafening. And in that silence stood a man wearing a foolish grin; cheek still warm where Kurt's lips were pressed against it just a moment before.


	27. Chapter 27

"Are you actually going to join the prom committee at some point?" Quinn asked in amusement Monday afternoon as the two of them walked to glee club. He'd used it as an excuse so many times that she figured he might as well.

"I'm not even going to prom. Why would I join the committee?"

Quinn tried to bite her tongue; she really did, but she couldn't help what she said next. "I bet you'd go if Anderson asked you to." It was supposed to sound like teasing but it came out harsher than intended.

"Maybe, yeah."

"You'd do anything if he asked, wouldn't you?" Her tone was accusatory.

So much for patience.

Kurt stopped in his tracks, waiting for a few loitering students to pass him, the emptiness of the hallway giving him the courage he needed to stand up to her.

"I don't need your judgement, okay?" Kurt said. "I thought we had an understanding"

"About that…" She started, and before she even finished her sentence she watched Kurt go completely pale. She had the power to end everything; the two of them knew that. She also knew that would be the right thing; what's best. But she made a promise. And that was enough to hold her tongue.

"You didn't tell anyone, did you?" Kurt asked, trying to mask the panic in his voice.

"My lips are sealed. I just wanted to talk to you."

His look of dread gave way to one of false bravado. "I really don't need a lecture from you." He said dismissively, turning his back away from her and walking down the hallway to the glee club.

She grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back around to face her. She hadn't planned on having the conversation at that moment; anticipating at least another week or so. But if it had to happen, now was as good a time as any.

"Kurt, listen-" She started, and the eye roll she was met with made her resist the urge to slap some sense into him. One, because she didn't do physical violence—often—and two, because they were friends. Sort of.

"Quinn, I really don't need to hear this.."

"Stop that!" She snapped. "Stop assuming you know what I'm going to say without even giving me a chance to speak."

"But I do know what you're going to say." Kurt countered and that was really her breaking point. "Now, come on, we're late to glee club."

"The world doesn't operate at your leisure, Kurt!" She yelled. His stunned face made her realize her volume; caused her to calm down slightly. "If I have something to say; I'm going to say it. Regardless of how inconvenient it may be for you."

She waited to make sure Kurt was truly silent and listening. "Now hear me out. I just want to make sure you understand what you're getting into."

"I'm fully aware."

"No, you think you are. You're irrational, and sometimes things that seem like a good idea at the time can be your worst decisions."

"You're the  _last_  person to lecture me on bad decisions."

Quinn was caught off guard by the venom in his tone. She forgot that behind all of the cherub-like features there resided a ruthless devil; a conniving sneak who'd managed to steal her voice with nothing but words. But she pretended like it didn't hurt her. She had to keep going.

"I've made some mistakes. But I've learned from them. Just because there are no immediate consequences doesn't mean what you're doing is-"

"You think I don't know about the risks? All the different ways this can go wrong? It's all I think about." He stepped closer. She felt his eyes pierce through her. "But you know what? I'm tired. I'm tired of having to doubt every single good thing that happens to me. I'm tired of having to apologize for being happy."

"You don't need him to make you happy.." Quinn said softly, feeling an overwhelming sense of sympathy for the misguided boy in front of her. He stepped back. "I'm trying to help you."

"I don't need your help. You're not my mother, Quinn."

And in that moment she knew that Kurt had a deeper understanding of her then she'd originally thought. Because it would have been perfect. Kurt had lost a mom and she had lost a child and they needed each other. He needed her guidance and she needed someone to dote on.

And she hadn't even realized it, not consciously, until the opportunity was gone.

No matter. She was done being understanding. She'd approach the issue like she should have from the start: heartlessly. She stepped forward, her heel clanking mercilessly against the tiled floor.

"You're a self-entitled brat. You sit around pretending like the world hates you and use it to justify your reckless actions." She started, calmly at first. "You have friends and a family that loves you. But you're so caught up in your own made up sob story that you think it gives you the right to do whatever you want without consequence. You know what your relationship with Anderson is? Your long, drawn out  _temper tantrum_."

Kurt looked a bit shell-shocked. She continued.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself. So what if you got beat up a few times for listening to Barbara Streisand? So what if you've been rejected by a few guys? So what if you lost your mom? Bad things just hap-" She heard the slap before she felt it. The sound reverberated throughout the hallways, echoing so the sound replayed over and over and over. Her ears rang.

And then it stung.

"You don't know me." He seethed, words measured and calculated; each syllable as sharp as a dagger; his expression severe. "And you don't know him."

_I don't need to know him to know how this story ends_ , She thought as she watched him walk away.

* * *

"You sound stressed." Chandler said over the webcam that night. He was helping Kurt with his Trig.

"Math is stressful." Kurt reasoned. "I'm never going to need matrices for the rest of my natural life and yet-"

"No, not like, math stressed. But life stressed." Chandler clarified. "Is something going on?"

Of course there was a lot going on. Mostly Quinn. And of course there was that letter that Kurt didn't even bother thinking about because it was a huge problem all on its own. Kurt had analyzed it one night, still contemplating the idea of it being Quinn playing some elaborate trick on him. But their argument only proved that it wasn't. Quinn was straight forward. She wasn't about discreet meetings and anonymous letters.

Whoever this person was wanted to hide. And Kurt figured he'd let them. He'd find out who they were—according to the letter, at least—by next Wednesday, in the locker room at 5 p.m.

And yes, Kurt was fully aware of how shady that sounded. Which was why he never expelled too much energy thinking about it.

"Nothing's going on. Now, please. Help me finish this before I miss the next episode of Teen Wolf."

"Just record it. Clearly whatever you're about to tell me is more important."

"I have nothing to say. I'm fine. Really. It's been a pretty average week." Kurt insisted.

"Is that why your outfit is clashing?" \

Kurt paused, feeling as if he hadn't heard correctly. He laughed nervously, waiting for Chandler to clue him in on the joke. But Chandler's expression looked grave. "Excuse me?"

"Your outfit is clashing." Chandler repeated. "Quite hideously, actually. It's offensive."

Kurt scoffed, looking down at himself, getting ready to protest when he realized Chandler was right. Kurt looked like he got dressed in the god awful dark, for Christ's sake. It was hideous. He was hideous.

"That's why I know something's up. Because you would never, not in your right mind, subject my eyes to that monstrosity." Chandler finished.

Now Kurt needed something to tell him. Because he knew he'd never hear the end of it until he did.

"Fine. I have this…secret." Kurt admitted. "And my friend found out about it. But she doesn't approve of the secret. Well, it's a choice I made, really. She thinks it's a stupid choice."

"Your letting someone's opinion upset you that much?"

"It's not just that. I keep feeling like…like if I don't do something about it she'll tell everyone else about my choice. Including my dad. And he won't be happy about it."

"Is it illegal?" Chandler asked.

"Yes." Kurt admitted with a sigh. "But not…it's not hurting anyone. And it's not hurting me."

"So, drugs?" Chandler guessed. "Because I wouldn't judge you. We've all gotten high at least once and I think it's a healthy outlet for-"

"I've never touched anything that wasn't over the counter." Kurt assured him.

"It's not important what it is." Chandler said, giving up on guessing. "It's important that you stop stressing over it. Things just have a tendency to work out for guys like us, you know? It's like…we constantly get the short end of the stick until one day we don't. Am I making sense?"

"No."

"All I'm saying is, karma's a bitch. But she's also really nice when she wants to be."

And for some reason those simple words lessened the tension in Kurt's shoulders.

"Hm. Yeah. I guess." Kurt agreed, smiling a little.

"Good. Now that that's settled please change into something less offensive. My eyes are burning."

Kurt laughed, flipping off the webcam before heading to his closet, eager to mend the monstrosity he had the nerve to call an outfit.

* * *

"Thanks a lot for this." Blaine said gratefully as he stirred the batter. "They always make me do these stupid PTA events."

"Maybe soccer moms are into bowties?" Kurt suggested mockingly.

"You love my bowties."

"I tolerate your bowties." Kurt corrected, dipping his finger into the batter to get a taste.

Blaine swatted his hand away. "Aren't you on a health kick or something?"

Kurt licked the chocolate from his finger. "There's nothing wrong with indulging."

The two of them were in Blaine's kitchen, slaving away on batches of desserts for the PTA sponsored tricky-tray—an event where middle aged woman could all get together, dress nicely, gossip, and bid on things that were being auctioned off, all of the proceeds being donated to the school.

Or, more accurately, went to funding the cheerios since Blaine had it on good authority that Sue was black-mailing more than half of said PTA.

Of course, they'd coerced Blaine into helping, mostly because he was what they'd coined as a "dream boat". He signed himself up for preparing stuff for the pre-event bake sale—admittedly with Kurt in mind. He was useless when it came to baking and he happened to know that Kurt's skills were responsible for selling out every glee club bake sale—as well as being a waiter for the actual event.

"You know, last time I tried baking it didn't go so well."

Kurt's eyes lit up in amusement. "Really? Tell me about it."

Blaine shook his head. There really wasn't enough time between the two of them to waste on talking about the past. "It was a disaster. Let's just leave it at that."

"That bad, huh? Did you start a fire?"

Blaine laughed distantly. "No. I haven't managed that quite yet."

Blaine supposed he could have told Kurt the story. He could have talked about the time he tried to bake a cake for Sebastian's 24th birthday. He could have mentioned that he set the electric mixer on its highest setting and accidently sent batter flying just about everywhere. Or how Sebastian came home a whole hour early and just stared at Blaine, covered in icing and looking frustrated to the point of tears. And how he'd laughed. And helped him clean up the mess. And how the two of them spent the next two hours making the cake together. And how at the end of the night, when the two of them were feeling limitless and ethereal, Sebastian turned to him and said, "This has probably been the best birthday ever." and Blaine realized he loved that man so much that he thought his heart might burst.

Blaine could have told Kurt all of that. But he didn't quite see the point. Even as he watched Kurt's expression fall slightly, knew that the student could tell he was being closed out, Blaine didn't feel any guilt. When Kurt was older he'd understand that the most crucial part to any relationship was what was left unsaid.

The oven dinged. Kurt, who was gifted with the attention span of a poodle, dismissed their conversation and grabbed an oven mitt to take out the tray. He'd successfully gotten it out and set it on the counter behind them, grumbling about how Blaine should really invest in a cooling rack.

It was as he turned around that his wrist grazed the scolding hot tray, causing Kurt to curse loudly.

And Blaine was there with him in an instant, gently taking Kurt's hand in his own and ushering him to the sink. He had his wrist running under cold water in thirty seconds flat. He heard Kurt's sigh of relief as the pain dissipated instantly.

"This won't scar, will it?"

Blaine pulled Kurt's hand away from the water to examine the burn. It already started forming a bit of a blister, but it was nothing monstrous. It would probably look scary for the first few days, but in the long term it would heal just fine.

To Kurt it was probably the end of the world. But Blaine knew that it was just a surface wound, and that there are far worse things.

"Doubt it." Blaine said, looking up from the mild burn to smile at him reassuringly. "You'll be just fine."

And that fact made Blaine envious beyond belief.

* * *

Kurt initially worried that Quinn would break their deal because he sort of assaulted her face. And she probably would have had every right. But, she stuck true to her word, and didn't tell a single soul.

It almost made Kurt feel bad for slapping her. Almost.

The more pressing matter of that stupid anonymous letter weighed more heavily on his mind. Kurt lost track of time somewhere between school, Blaine, and the current play he was devouring from cover to cover. Wednesday rolled around without warning, hardly giving him time to run away. The abstract of a bunch of words scribbled on a piece of paper would become real; solid to the touch at around 5 p.m.

So, naturally, Kurt packed a light snack of trail mix before embarking on his endeavor to meet the masked (wo)man.

He was punctual, walking through the vacant hallway; typical of a Wednesday afternoon when most students just went straight home. He passed a few stragglers, probably a few students just like him who used Wednesdays as tutor days since clubs usually didn't meet. But when he entered the locker-room it was a ghost town; the only hint of human life having ever existed there being the faint odor of gym socks and disappointment that permeated the air. He graciously plopped down onto one of the benches and waited for him (or her. But the idea of wanting to meet in a boy's locker room would be very deceptive.)

After a few minutes he started to suspect that the letter really was someone's idea of a stupid prank and he'd just blown it way out of proportion. He really was being ridiculously paranoid. Feeling more relieved, and just a little bit silly, he got up and headed toward the door.

And that's when he heard voices.

"He's such a hardass."

"For real. Gave me an F for not making a slight page."

"…do you mean a cite page?"

"Yeah."

Their voices got louder as they got closer.

"You need serious help, man."

"Whatever. You walking home?"

"I have to clean out my gym locker. Catch you later, 'zimo."

"Later."

Kurt knew who it was before they'd even walked through the door, but seeing him face to face was what it took to get his blood absolutely boiling.

"Hummel." Karofsky practically sneered. "What do you want?"

"I should be asking you that same question." Kurt spat back; instantly getting defensive.

Karofsky stared at him in a way that made Kurt feel like there might have been something in his teeth. And then he did something really unnerving.

He smiled.

"You've got some nerve showing up here."

Kurt didn't have time to play games with the Neanderthal, he just needed to know what it would take to get Karofsky to keep his mouth shut. "Look, I just need to know what you want from me."

"Easy." Karofsky said, so close it was menacing. "You quit showing your fairy ass around my school."

And Kurt honestly picked the most inappropriate moment to laugh.

"What? What's so funny?"

"You're so in denial it's embarrassing." Kurt said. "I didn't magically forget that night at Scandals, you know."

"What are you getting at?"

"I'm saying I don't know many straight men that hang out in gay bars." Kurt countered, and then he couldn't stop himself. "I don't know many straight men openly gawk at other men in the hallway. In fact, just the other day-"

Karofsky slammed his fist against the locker; the sound reverberating throughout the locker-room and silencing him. "I told you I'm not queer. I was dared to go there, okay? And I did and I haven't been back."

Kurt knew that Karofsky must have been desperate. Someone secure in themselves wouldn't feel like they owed anyone an explanation. If Karofsky were telling the truth his response would have been more of a "fuck off" then an excuse.

He realized that Karofsky was less than a threat. His letter meant nothing. What he knew meant nothing. He meant nothing. Because what Kurt knew was an infinity times worse.

"You poor thing." Kurt said, voice laced with false sympathy. " You're not fooling anyone. You think I'm the only one that knows?"

"Shut up-"

"What do you think people talk about when you're not in the room?"

"Shut the fuck up, Hummel, or I swear to god-"

"You'll what? Hit me?"

And then Karofsky's lips were against his own, a harsh collision at first but then softening as the kiss took shape; got comfortable in its own skin. It was the exact opposite that you'd expect from someone with such violent tendencies; it was so earnest in nature that Kurt couldn't even bring himself to pull away.

Then anger took place of understanding and Kurt delivered a harsh punch to Karofsky's gut, sending him staggering backward. Kurt's eyes fluttered open—he hadn't even remembered closing them—and he saw that they weren't alone, and that Karofsky had been backing away from him.

"Did you guys see that? That queer just  _kissed_ me?"

Kurt turned to see two hockey players eyeing him warily, wanted to open his mouth and stick up for himself, say Karofsky was lying and wasn't even his  _type_ but he opted to flee instead. Regardless of the truth, Kurt knew who they'd believe, and he didn't want to stick around to find out the consequences of that.

* * *

News travelled fast at McKinley, and by the next day the hallways were buzzing with the new gossip.

There were apparently several versions floating around, and none of them were even close to the truth. Some seemed to think Karofsky and Kurt were secretly in a relationship, finally being outed. Others seemed to paint Karofsky as the victim, and that Kurt must have been the one to kiss him without warning.

He tried to walk as quickly as possible between classes, but when lunch time came around he knew there was no escaping them. He walked toward the cafeteria, keeping his head down all the while.

And then he felt a hand gently close around his, guiding him away from the imposing room. He picked his head up and saw a face he could only describe as angelic (despite the fact that he slapped it about fourty-eight hours prior.)

"Come on. We can eat in my car." Quinn said, heading toward the parking lot. She didn't ask for an apology, and he didn't plan on offering one. But he needed her.

He sat in her passenger's seat and they split a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and the gesture of kindness was so foreign when compared to how the rest of his day went that he nearly felt like breaking down in tears.

But he refrained. Because that would have been weird.

"I ate lunch in here for most of my sophomore year." Quinn explained. "It was easier eating alone than having people stare, you know?"

Kurt wished he could have been there for her. But they weren't close sophomore year, and he never thought twice about where Quinn disappeared to during lunch. It wasn't any of his concern.

But she had thought of him and he felt like he didn't deserve it at all.

"Thank you."

Quinn looked mildly surprised, as if not expecting to be thanked. As if there was no other option but to help him. "You're welcome."

She didn't ask him anything having to do with Karofsky and he was grateful. He'd spoken himself hoarse trying to dispel all rumors and he figured no matter what he said his words would be twisted anyway.

"This won't last forever, you know." She assured him. "They're all so shallow. The moment they get a new scandal they'll forget all about you."

Kurt knew. Because he was one of them. He gossiped with the best of them; traded rumors like they were currency, didn't think twice about how destructive he was being.

And as bad as he felt, somewhere Karofsky—Dave. His name is Dave, Kurt reminded himself—was feeling a million times worse.

Lunch time ended too quickly and Quinn and Kurt were forced to part ways. Kurt took a huge breath before jumping straight into shark infested waters.


	28. Chapter 28

When Blaine had overheard the rumor from two kids whispering in the back of his Intro to Chem class he brushed it off as simply that: a rumor. Admittedly it was a sick one; one that made his stomach twist unpleasantly at the thought of that brute even being within a foot of Kurt.

But then he noticed Karofsky was conveniently absent from class next period.

The rumor was looking more and more like fact but Blaine wouldn't be fully convinced until he got confirmation from Kurt himself.

When seventh period finally rolled around and Kurt made his way into the classroom Blaine was positive he was very aware of the rumors going around about him. He looked absolutely dazed, to say the least, like he was still trying to register the day he'd just had.

He'd forced his eyes away and taught the class like normal, sending threatening glances at anyone who ignored him in favor of gawking at Kurt or talking loudly about him instead.

When the class finally ended and the bell rang Blaine thought he'd have to get Kurt's attention, but was surprised when Kurt was actually the one to come to him.

"Can I talk to you?" Kurt asked, and he realized it wasn't as his boyfriend or even as his friend, but rather as a student seeking guidance from an authority figure he trusted.

"Have a seat."

And Kurt poured his heart out. He explained the whole situation from entering the locker room eventually fleeing after two athletes caught them kissing.

"And I just…I don't know what to do. Because now  _everyone_ knows. And most of the stories floating around aren't even  _true_." Kurt ranted, and Blaine had never seen him so genuinely unhinged in the entirety of their time together.

"I think…and I know this is terrible advice, but I think you just have to lay low for a while. It'll blow over, trust me."

Kurt nodded, calming down a little. "He kissed me, you know. And I wasn't…leading him on, or something."

"I know that." Blaine said softly. "And, I'll be honest: I'm not too comfortable that this guy bullied you all year and then just…kissed you. But if you're sure this wasn't a case of sexual harassment-"

"It wasn't." Kurt seemed adamant to get that point across. "It was all very impulsive."

Blaine nodded. He had witnessed a particularly nasty situation when he used to be a student teacher, where a rumor turned into a full on law suit due to miscommunication between everyone involved. Parents trusted that their kids would be safe in school, and if they were to get even the slightest idea that that wasn't the case it could result in disaster.

"I punched him, you know." Kurt added quietly, even in all of his worry sounding extremely smug. "I've been waiting  _so_ long to do that."

Blaine couldn't help but smile at that.

As if on cue, the sound of the loud-speaker crackling to life filled up the room, and Kurt visibly tensed at the sound.

"Kurt Hummel. My office. Now."

The voice did not belong to Figgins, but rather a very stern sounding Sue Sylvester.

Kurt's eyes widened and he quickly shook his head. "She'll kill me."

Blaine rolled his eyes fondly. "You'll live. Now go. Before she gets mad."

Kurt took a deep breath and headed toward the door, casting a grateful smile in Blaine's direction before he headed out of the room.

* * *

"Porcelain, have a seat." Sue said, not even sparing him a glance as she squinted at some papers in her hands through her reading glasses.

Kurt sat on the soft leather chair, practically sinking down into it.

"Like it?" She asked, finally looking. "I just got them imported from Indonesia. It's amazing what those little five year olds can make with their  _bare_ hands."

Kurt nodded mutely, glancing around the office nervously.

"What? No lecture on morals?" She questioned. "Disappointing."

Kurt finally made eye contact with her, and he glared. "Is there a reason you called me here, Ms. Sylvester?"

"You tell me. Is there anything you think I should know?"

Kurt sighed. " _Nothing happened._ "

Sue glared him down. "Something happened. And it's affecting the whole football team. Which, in turn, is affecting my cheerios performance. And we can't have that. So I need to know exactly what occurred in that locker room. Do you understand?"

Kurt nodded, and with those carefully chosen words Kurt recounted the story honestly.

Sue eyed him critically, as if she'd be able to gauge how truthful he was just by staring long enough. Finally, she sighed.

"I'm feeling nice today so I'll offer you a deal. I'll have my cheerios do damage control and all you have to do is guard the punch bowl at prom."

"But that would require me planning on attending." Kurt pointed out.

"You're catching on quickly." Sue grinned victoriously. "Do we have a deal?"

"Deal?" Kurt said a bit unsurely, relieved that the weight was lifted off his shoulders.

They shook on it. And Kurt had the unshakeable feeling he had just traded in his soul.

* * *

In a few days the rumor was almost completely dissolved. One of the cheerleaders had sworn that everything had to be false due to the fact that she was on a date with Dave that afternoon. All of the other cheerleaders backed it up and soon the story was reduced to nothing but what must have been heat exhaustion on the part of the two football players.

It was unlikely, but McKinley wasn't filled with the brightest of students, so the story stuck. Even the glee club members didn't dwell on it for too long; too caught up in their own little bubbles of drama (who cheated on who, who hated who, the usual nonsense that Kurt had grown to see as juvenile compared to his own problems).

Even Karofsky came back to the school two days later, and everyone eased back into their roles, effectively staying away from each other.

* * *

It took a day or two for Kurt to build up the courage to leave a note in Karofsky's locker. It was short and sweet; only containing ten digits and invitation to talk if he ever needed to. Because all Kurt could think about was that silly assembly from months ago, and that kid named Jamie who probably had no one to talk to.

He saw a side of Karofsky that he hadn't completely hated. And he didn't  _pity_ him either, because that would be an insult to his character. Rather, he understood him. And what he was going through, and that he was coping in the best way he knew how.

Karofsky never called him but Kurt always kept his phone close just in case.

* * *

It was a full week later as Kurt was completely beating Finn—only digitally, of course—that the truth came out. The two of them were home alone for the first time since The Locker Room Incident, and hadn't really discussed it fully since then.

Finn paused the game and turned to Kurt. "Dude, we need to talk."

"Can't that wait until after I obliterate you?"

Finn smiled crookedly. "I thought you didn't like video games."

"I don't." Kurt said defensively, and he could tell Finn didn't by a word of it.

"Sure." Finn said. "But um, I really need to get something off of my chest."

"Oh?" Kurt questioned, now properly curious. "What are you-"

"I wrote the letter!" Finn blurted out, eyes wide and body tense as if preparing to get hit. "I know you said it's better to talk stuff out, but I thought that if I scared you a little you'd stop seeing him and I just…"

At some point Kurt tuned him out, and was filled up with feelings of…horror? No, that wasn't quite right. Shock? Maybe. But more than that he was filled up with so much love and fondness that he thought his heart might burst.

"Finn." Kurt said, trying to get him to stop talking. "Finn!"

Finn stopped, looking at Kurt and expecting the worst.

"I'm not mad at you." Kurt said. "I'm just…I'm trying to understand…"  _how you were gifted with a heart bigger than your brain._

"I know we talk about communicating a lot. And how it's better to just say what's on your mind." Finn said. "But I didn't think you would listen."

"That's probably true." Kurt said. "But I'm here now. And I'm listening."

Finn nodded. "I saw you two at the mall. Rachel sent me there to scope out the costume shop and I just…saw you two. And you looked really close, you know? Like gay for each other close."

"That's one way to put it." Kurt agreed.

"But you also looked really happy. Like you were smiling and stuff. And it was weird because you're usually all mopey. And I guess I just…panicked. Because he's your  _teacher_ , dude."

"Really? I haven't noticed." Kurt said, his lips twitching at their corners and threatening to form a smile.

"Well, yeah. So I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want to be a snitch but…I wrote that letter. Which totally failed." Finn said. "And I sort of ruined your life for a good few days. So I figure the least I could do is just…let you do your thing. And just…make sure your safe and stuff, you know?"

"You didn't ruin my life, idiot." Kurt said, unable to hide his smile now.

Finn smiled too. "I know you don't like hugs, but.."

"Come here." Kurt said, arms wide and bracing himself for the bone crushing hug from his hulk of a step brother. "Jesus, what have they been feeding you?"

"I had lucky charms…want some?" Finn said, eventually pulling away and standing up to head to the kitchen.

"With 2% milk, please." Kurt requested.

And just like that the crisis was solved. Kurt couldn't help but wish everyone were as simple and open-minded as Finn was.


	29. Chapter 29

Kurt was more or less freaking out. Because between rehearsing for Nationals and keeping up with his schoolwork he had little to no time to prepare for a prom he hadn't even planned on going to in the first place.

Literally all of his friends had dates already, and going stag was completely uncool if it was by yourself. All just to guard some godforsaken punch bowl from being spiked.

And Sue never mentioned what to do if someone actually tried to spike it. Did he give them a mean look? Threaten to bite them? He didn't have the proper credentials to guard much of anything and had received no formal training.

And god, what would he wear? Prom meant cameras and cameras meant facebook and facebook meant forever.

He had been ranting to Chandler—who was busy eating what looked to be a bowl of cereal—when the aforementioned finally spoke.

"I could totally go with you." He mumbled around a half-chewed mouth of cereal, laughing at Kurt's disgusted face. He finished chewing and swallowing. "What?"

"I just didn't appreciate being greeted by the food in your mouth." Kurt clarified. "And are you sure that's a good idea? I can guarantee you won't enjoy yourself."

"Oh, I won't?" Chandler asked, amused. "You sound so sure."

"Because I am. It's going to be boring and overrated and you'll hate me for dragging you there."

"Pretty please?" Chandler was doing that puppy dog eyes thing that made Kurt want to vomit but it always fucking worked. "Our prom was cancelled because of a termite infestation."

"You're lying."

"I would not lie about infestations; I take them very seriously."

Kurt narrowed his eyes. "Fine. But no flirting. Or fondling." He said, knowing that Chandler would get handsy just for the sake of freaking out everyone around them.

"…look. My hands have a mind of their own and-"

"Chandler."

"Ugh, fine. You have my word."

Kurt stared at him in silence for five more seconds before sighing in defeat.

"Whatever. But if this is happening we need to start planning our outfits like, now."

* * *

Blaine had no idea that he was going to be forced to chaperone the Prom until the last minute when a very disgruntled PTA mom left him a message practically begging. He had absolutely no reason to be there but he figured a night of free food and music couldn't hurt, even if the room was bound to be filled with the pheromones of students hoping to get lucky.

Blaine had missed his own junior prom due to an unlucky case of food poisoning, and he didn't remember most of his senior prom. But he certainly remembered every last detail of what happened afterward in the hotel room he and Sebastian had taken out.

That was probably the last thing he should have been thinking about while tutoring Kurt on van der Waals equations.

"Do you think the guy who invented these had friends?" Kurt asked as he worked on solving the latest one.

Blaine laughed. "I have no clue."

"Don't they pay you to know these things?"

"Shut up and work, will you?"

"That's no way to speak to a student, Mr. Anderson."

" _Please_  shut up and work."

He really didn't know how he managed to put up with him sometimes, but miraculously he'd made it through several Wednesday afternoons and emerged victoriously. And even though Kurt sometimes gave him a hard time there wasn't a single thing Blaine would change about him. Except sometimes he wished Kurt wasn't so long-winded, but even his tendency to babble became the cutest thing in Blaine's eyes.

Kurt scoffed. "You never talk that way to anyone else."

"No one else is quite as big of a brat."

"But I'm your brat." Kurt reminded him.

And Blaine shouldn't have liked the sound of that as much as he did.

"I suppose that's true."

* * *

"I thought you said you weren't going to Prom." Rachel pointed out.

"I'm not. I'm…supervising."

Mercedes popped her head out from behind the door of the changing room. "By that he means Ms. Sylvester is making him guard the punch bowl."

"Thank you for your unneeded input." Kurt drawled as she grinned cheekily before disappearing back behind the door.

"That's not so bad. That puts you right next to the snacks." Rachel said in an attempt to be optimistic.

"Yeah, so if you get too miserable you can always poison yourself." Tina's voice was muffled from behind the neighboring door.

"Why are you even here? You're practically still in middle school." Kurt was met with the sound of Tina's giggles that only had tendency to surface at someone else's expense.

When he had agreed to go to the mall to help his friends pick prom dresses—Rachel was just along for the ride considering she'd had her dress picked out for months in advance, and Tina was invited simply because her date happened to be a Junior— he hadn't exactly expected to be verbally abused in the process. But then again most of their outings involved teasing someone and he supposed it was simply his turn in the rotation.

"Don't listen to them. I'm sure you'll have a blast." Rachel said. "I'd keep you company but Finn and I have to maximize our prom time together."

"I don't need your pity offers; I already have a date." Kurt said.

"With who?!" Rachel lowered her voice dramatically. "It's not Karofsky, is it?"

"No." Kurt said. "It's Chandler. You remember Chandler."

"Oh. Yes." Rachel confirmed, nodding in recollection. "He's cute. But I thought you two were just friends?"

"We are."

"I want to believe you but I can't ignore the facts."

Kurt was going to ask what facts but was interrupted when Mercedes finally emerged in a stunning sapphire dress. He didn't even ponder what Rachel meant by her statement until several days later.

* * *

As Blaine stood in front of the mirror and gelled his hair he couldn't help but feel a nervous sort of excitement. Sure, this wasn't his prom but it was Kurt's, and he knew somewhere in the state of Ohio he was probably having a last minute panic attack about which way to coif his hair. And so Blaine was suffering from secondhand jitters as he straightened his tie—notably not of the bow variety—and inspected himself one last time in the mirror before heading out to his car.

When he finally got to McKinley he met up with Emma at the door, who was his lovely if not slightly neurotic date for the evening.

"Well don't you look handsome." She said, brushing down what must have been a crease in his waistcoat.

"Oh, stop it." Blaine grinned. "And you look fantastic." Her forest green gown with emerald accents stopped at ankle length, pretty conservative save for the slit in the dress that left her leg exposed.

"Shall we?" She asked, holding out a proffered arm which Blaine promptly linked with his own.

"We shall."

And even though it wasn't their Prom, Blaine was sure the two of them were going to be a shoe-in for best dressed couple.

* * *

Kurt and Chandler leaned against the wall near the punch bowl, still recovering from the long and mildly threatening talk Burt had given the two of them about being home before one in the morning or "I'll come find you two myself". Finn and Rachel had received a similar talk, but from Carole who was considerably less scary.

"Your parents are lovely people." Chandler had said in the limo, which was paid for a la Rachel's dads.

Introductions went on in the limo and everyone seemed to take a liking to Chandler, except for Finn; who looked at him in mild confusion, as well as Quinn; whose gaze could be more accurately described as that of a hawk.

When they'd gotten to the school they hung out for the first few minutes, but eventually parted ways to go socialize or, in the case of Kurt and Chandler, talk about everyone there.

"Your friend Rachel is…she's a lot." Chandler said and all Kurt could do was laugh.

"That's one way to put it, yeah."

Just then Kurt saw Rick Nelson try to inconspicuously walk over towards the punch bowl with a flask in his hand, but all it took was Kurt to glare at him and shake his head very slowly to get him to back away.

"You're getting good at that."

"Why, thank you."

It only took about half an hour of being there for Kurt to spot Blaine, who was actually doing something that looked like a modified version of the jitterbug with a very giggly and blushing Ms. Pillsbury.

"You like him, don't you?" Chandler's question snapped Kurt out of his trance.

"What? No. Not at all. Ew. Disgusting."

"You're literally making heart eyes at him."

"That's not anatomically possible."

Chandler smirked, not buying a second of it. "I can't say I blame you. He's kind of hot."

"Kind of?" Kurt said before he could help himself, literally shrinking back in embarrassment when he realized he'd given himself away.

"Don't look now, but he's coming this way." Chandler murmured back at him, and Kurt barely had time to recover before Blaine was by the punch bowl. He got a cup for himself and a second one which was presumably for Ms. Pillsbury before he looked up and noticed the two of them leaning against the wall.

"Hey, Kurt!" Blaine said with the generic but genuine enthusiasm he used when greeting all of his students. His features fell just slightly at the sight of Chandler. "And this is…"

"Chandler." Kurt said, wishing he had time to explain that it wasn't what it looked like. "And Chandler, this is Mr. Anderson."

"Nice to meet you." Chandler said, sticking a hand out. Blaine gripped his hand and shook, making him wince at the force of it.

"Pleasure." Blaine said through a tight-lipped grin. "Well, I hope you two have fun. And, most importantly, stay responsible."

"Will do, sir." Kurt responded, but he pleaded silently with his eyes for Blaine to not jump to conclusions. But Blaine's jaw was set and he quickly turned away so Kurt wouldn't be able to finish reading his expression.

"If he was my teacher I'd be failing chemistry, too." Chandler mused as Blaine walked out of earshot.

* * *

Blaine didn't know why he was upset. He knew it was unfair of him to expect Kurt to go to Prom alone, but it was facing the reality of it that was hard. And why on Earth did Kurt have to go with Chandler of all people? The same boy he ranted and raved about to Blaine not that long ago.

He was jealous, yeah, but it was more than that. It was seeing what Kurt's life would be without Blaine. It was seeing him smiling and happy with another guy as if he and Blaine had never met. It was seeing that Kurt in all actuality didn't even need him. Certainly not in the way that Blaine needed Kurt.

It was something Blaine had subconsciously known all along but it was still a particularly hard fact to swallow.

He spent the rest of the night being very conscious of where his eyes wandered, not allowing them to drift to that particular corner of the room. He busied himself by running in to intervene whenever one of the students took it upon themselves to start doing dances akin to pre-mating rituals on the dance floor, as well as trying to convince Emma to build up the courage to ask Will to dance.

Predictably, he avoided getting punch for the rest of the night.

* * *

"Hey, Hummel." Dave Karofsky said almost shyly, one arm lifted up to rub at the back of his neck in a nervous gesture.

"Hi, Karofsky." Kurt said friendly, almost as if they'd been old friends. He saw the jock's eyes wander to Chandler. "Oh, sorry. Chandler, this is Karofsky."

"Ah, yes. I've heard a lot about you." Chandler said, wearing what could only be described as a murderous smile.

There was a pause. Kurt cleared his throat to fill up the awkward silence. "So…are you enjoying yourself?"

Karofksy nodded. "Are you?"

Kurt supposed he should have found it odd, the fact that they were chatting like two friends shooting the crap by the water cooler. But if there was anything this year taught him; it was that people weren't always what they seemed to be. And he'd have liked to think that if things went differently he and Karofsky might have been good friends.

"Yeah. I'm stuck watching the punch bowl, though."

Karofsky nodded sympathetically. "I was on punch duty at last year's spring formal."

"She's obsessed." Kurt whispered, just in case Sue had spies. "If she cares so much about the punch she should watch it herself."

Karofsky laughed, a sound so foreign coming from him. "So uh…did you want to dance?" And when Kurt's eyes widened he quickly corrected himself. "No, not, I didn't mean…I meant with your date. Because I can take over while you two go dance."

"I wouldn't ask that of you.."

"I would!" Chandler cut him off, dragging Kurt to the dance floor before he could even protest.

"Thank you!" Kurt called to Karofsky while he was being forcibly dragged away by the blonde devil himself to the dance floor.

* * *

As Kurt danced with Chandler he couldn't shake the feeling of panic. But everyone was minding their own business and not even paying attention to them. There were no taunts or jabs and after a while he was able to relax and have something closely resembling a good time.

Occasionally he saw Blaine, barely catching him in the act of staring but pretending like he wasn't. But he figured he'd calmly explain things to him and that would be the end of it. Blaine was incredibly level-headed and understanding. He just got things. He would definitely get this.

"You seem distracted." Chandler noted.

"I am distracted."

"You're always distracted." Chandler agreed. "You're here, but you're also somewhere else. With someone else."

"Am I that obvious?"

"It might as well be written on your forward in glitter." He grinned.

Kurt apologetically. "I'm sorry. I'm a terrible date."

"True." Chandler mused, dodging when Kurt's hand tried to shove him.

"You're an ass."

"A fine one at that." Chandler wiggled his eyebrows and that's all it took for Kurt to be reduced to a fit of actual giggles.

* * *

Figgins had made sure to inform the chaperones that everyone had to be out of the building by eleven due to a number of incidents that happened at last year's prom. Teens everywhere were slowly but surely stumbling their way out of the building; some heading to each other's houses while others were taking their cars up to the city to stay in a hotel for the weekend.

"Are you sure you're fine to get home?" Chandler asked as he walked over to his friend Ethan's car which was pulled up on the curb. "I know you're close but you shouldn't walk this late."

"I'll probably get a ride home with Finn." Kurt said, looking through the crowd. "If he didn't go run off with Rachel."

"Good luck with that." Chandler, opening the car door. "Thank you for a great night."

"Thank you. Seriously, you're a life saver." Kurt said, kissing both his cheeks before letting him get on home.

Kurt was stuck with the task of looking through the crowd of kids, some of whose night was just getting started, and couldn't find Finn for the life of him. And he was usually a pretty easy person to spot in a crowd.

He saw the reflection of Quinn's crown and plowed his way through the crowd to stop her. "Hey, have you seen Finn?"

"Oh…yeah. He was looking for you. I told him you would catch up later."

"Why would you do that?" Kurt asked.

"I figured you'd want some alone time with your date." Quinn said.

"You know Chandler's not-"

"Oh, keep up, Kurt. I mean your real date. The one you couldn't stop staring at for half of the night."

Kurt looked at her critically, waiting for some sort of punchline.

"Last time I spotted him he was headed to the teacher's parking lot. Better hurry up." She said, before walking away.

And it took until she disappeared around the corner for him to realize that was Quinn Fabray's way of giving her blessings.

* * *

Blaine was leaned against his parked car, watching with a faint smile as Will and Emma talked amiably before reluctantly heading to their separate cars. He knew that Emma probably had the biggest crush on Will ever—except for when Blaine had just started working at the school and Emma was infatuated with Blaine for all of two weeks—and he always thought the two to be a good fit.

There was something so bittersweet about watching two people on the verge of happiness from afar.

When they'd finally driven off Blaine realized he was the only teacher still in the parking lot. He'd gotten into his car and started it when he'd heard a faint knocking on the window. He turned to see Kurt, smiling almost guiltily. He thought about driving off for all of two seconds but then he realized how late it was.

He rolled down his window.

"Hi."

"Hey."

"Can I-"

"Get in."

Kurt walked around and opened up the car door, sitting in the passenger's seat. They sat in silence, Blaine letting the engine run and further pollute the earth.

"I'm sorry. I should have told you."

"Kurt, it's fine. You don't…owe me an explanation." You don't owe me anything.

Blaine turned to look at Kurt; felt a fissure grow in his heart when he saw the hurt look on his face. "Chandler isn't…god, you must think I'm some terrible person, don't you?"

Blaine's expression softened. "No. No, that's not it. I just…is this still what you want? Because it's not like…I'm not holding you hostage, or anything. None of this will affect your grade."

Kurt observed him in absolute contempt for what felt like the longest second of their lives before he spoke again. "My grade? You think I'm worried about my  _grade_?" He laughed, the sound clipped and humorless. "I suck at chemistry. I always have, and I always will."

"You've improved a lot."

Kurt rolled his eyes fondly. "I like you. Too much, actually."

"But Chandler-"

"-is just a friend. And you are an incredibly silly old man."

Blaine narrowed his eyes. "I take high offense to that."

Kurt smiled. "Good. Now we're even."

Blaine couldn't even stay mad at him for too long; Kurt had a way of propelling anger and encouraging joy.

"Do you want to go somewhere?" Blaine asked.

Kurt tilted his head in contemplation. "Did you have anywhere in mind?"

And then they were off, eager to take advantage of the night while it was still young and promising.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm putting up this chapter pretty quickly because it's actually been in the works for a while. (I write out of order. Shocker.) Anyway, enjoy!

Kurt's first thought when Blaine handed him the bottle of champagne was how they were possibly going to drink it with no cups, but then when Blaine demonstrated by simply lifting the bottle to his lips and taking a swig Kurt did the same.

It was bubbly, like soda but different. It fizzled all the way down his throat, and he smacked his lips together, missing the sweet taste. It was Blaine who took the bottle away from him, not letting him have a second sip.

"Slow down." Blaine teased, taking another sip himself as Kurt watched with an exasperated look, snatching the bottle back and taking a huge  _gulp_ , just to prove he could keep up.

They were leaning against Blaine's car, parked somewhere overlooking the highway, a comforting sort of isolation. Blaine stood close to Kurt, holding him by his waist and not even complaining as his sharp hip bone poked into his side.

Kurt's eyes were focused on the illuminated road as cars zoomed by underneath them, going somewhere.  _Somewhere_. The possibilities were endless.

"I don't want this night to end." Blaine confessed, his words purified by the night air, the truth ringing throughout them without preamble or fear.

"Me neither." Kurt admitted, watching Blaine's Adam's apple bob up and down as he took another sip, and he imagined the sweet bubbles and that he could hear them pop and crackle on the way down.

"We could just…go. Keep driving. Couldn't we?"

Kurt took his sip, the champagne still as sweet as ever, but this time he detected an undertone of bitterness. "We could." He lied gently.

"We could travel." He said softly, pressing a soft kiss right beneath Kurt's ear. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? We could visit every single country."

"Even the tiny ones with names I can't pronounce?"

Blaine laughed, the sound nearly making Kurt's heart burst with adoration. "Even the tiny ones with names you can't pronounce." He confirmed.

Kurt turned to him, pressing a kiss to Blaine's lips, which were slightly sticky from that cursed tonic. He pulled away sooner than he wanted to. "I love you."

Blaine's blissful expression turned to one of a resigned sadness. "No, you don't, Kurt."

"I could." Kurt amended. "One day. I really think I could."

Blaine accepted that. "I could love you, one day, too."

* * *

It ended in fumbling hands—everything they ever did always ended with fumbling hands and nervous exchanges and sighs and sloppy kisses and regret and hatred and so much loathing. The change in venue and the liquid courage made for a more careless approach, Kurt's tie already loosened by Blaine's hands, which were now working on the buttons of his dress shirt. He supposed had they not both been delirious Blaine would have put an end to this, but there was something so tempting about a mutual decision to take advantage of each other's buzzed nature.

The only thing that actually stopped Kurt was the sight of exposed skin, distinguishable even in the slight darkness of night. He stared, not sure what to do next.

"You can touch, you know." Blaine said in a soft, encouraging tone. Kurt hesitantly ran a soft hand down the bare skin, but what Blaine didn't expect next was the curious, open mouthed kisses that followed the same path. Blaine gasped and that seemed to only encourage Kurt.

Blain shouldn't have found it as  _hot_ as he did, a few innocent kisses placed above the waist. But Kurt seemed to delight in every sigh and shiver he caused; acutely aware of his own sexuality and attractiveness. And Blaine loved knowing he was the one awakening all of this in him for the first time.

Blaine was hit with memories of that night at his house, Kurt gasping and writhing and telling him not to  _think too much_. And how wrong could it be if they both wanted it? It was a victimless crime.

Kurt got carried away with himself, kissing all the way down to Blaine's stomach. Blaine groaned, knowing the last thing he needed was the sight of Kurt's blushing cheeks and kiss-swollen lips anywhere near down there.

"Come here." Blaine said in a soft, coaxing voice. Kurt moved back up his body so they were face to face again, and Blaine pulled him into a needy kiss, pouring everything into it he wanted Kurt to know like what he wished he could do  _if only I didn't have that damned little thing called a conscience,_ and in the way Kurt's lips moved against his lips he got his answer,  _I know I know I know._

They broke apart slightly, lips still brushing slightly together as they breathed heavily in tandem. And it was all at once that they had a very deep, if not provocative, understanding of each other.

"Can I?" Kurt asked, looking down suggestively; too shy to actually say the words. "I want to-"

Blaine could barely think straight, not even sure how he managed to sound so level when he was absolutely wrecked. "I don't know if that's the best idea."

"But it's prom night." Kurt said, but all Blaine could focus on were those pouty lips of his, pulling him down by his tie and pressing another kiss to them out of necessity.

Blaine pulled away after another moment. "That doesn't mean we have to do anything…inappropriate."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Because I'm sure your prom night was spent playing card games."

"Checkers, actually." And that earned him a laugh, sweet and gentle.

"Then why can't we play…" Kurt's finger traced the bare skin above Blaine's waist, mere inches away from the bulge in his pants. Blaine swallowed, his throat getting dry. He made a mental note that drunk and horny Kurt was a lethal combination.

Blaine had lost all will-power, months of frustration building up in that moment, Kurt eager and willing and on top of him in a car in the middle of nowhere. How could he resist?

"Fuck, okay. Okay, just…move your hand a little lower? Please."

The moment he felt Kurt's unsure hand squeeze around him is a moment Blaine would replay in his mind for months to come. He watched as Kurt moved his hand slowly, eyebrows furrowed in a sort of concentration as he felt him. Moments went by, the car filled with nothing but the sound of Blaine's harsh breathing and little gasps of awe on Kurt's end. Eventually the hand got bolder, playing with Blaine's zipper.

"Do you want to see?" Blaine asked gently, his hand reaching up to stroke Kurt's cheek. When the student nodded Blaine rushed to undo his pants, giving Kurt one final reassuring look before pulling them along with his boxers down in one motion.

* * *

Kurt stared at it, thicker and slightly darker than his own, hard against Blaine's stomach. He wrapped a loose hand around it, stroking experimentally, relishing in the sound Blaine made.

"Again." Blaine demanded, his voice losing all gentle qualities in exchange for desperation. After a few more strokes Kurt quickly got the hang of it, hand moving up and down quickly as Blaine's fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him down for a kiss that was all teeth and tongue.

Kurt eventually broke the kiss, pressing his lips to Blaine's neck, then collarbone, moving lower and lower until he was right back where he started. "Can I? Please, I want to-"

"Fuck, yes. Blow me." Blaine said in a way that didn't even sound like him, that much dirtier coming from his mouth.

Kurt didn't overthink it, lips closing around the head as Blaine's fingers further tangled in his hair.

"That's it. That's perfect." Blaine practically cooed as Kurt bobbed his head slowly, getting used to it. "Such a pretty mouth."

Kurt had never pegged Blaine for the verbal type, but he supposed Blaine turned into a lot of things when he had a mouth around him.

* * *

Blaine watched as Kurt's mouth worked over him, equally parts amazed and confused, certain this must've been another one of his absolute filthy dreams.

He got close quickly, barely stuttering out a warning before he spilled into Kurt's mouth, watching him swallow most of it save for a small amount that dribbled down his chin.

Without thinking his thumb reached out, swiping up that last bit and rubbing it against Kurt's lips, whining quietly when the student's tongue licked it away.

He pulled Kurt in for one last kiss, his hand reaching into his pants without even having the state of mind to ask, wrapping around him and moving roughly until Kurt's whole body tensed in a way that was familiar, the sounds mirroring the ones he'd made while they were painting, as he spilled over Blaine's fist.

The two of them basked in the afterglow for a few moments, exchanging lazy kisses and shy smiles. But even that ended all too soon as the gravity of what they did hit both of them, as absolute guilt and anguish flooded every synapse of Blaine's brain.

He stopped himself from saying he regretted it, knew how damaging that could be to someone whose sense of self worth was as delicate as Kurt's. Instead he said nothing. He didn't even acknowledge it.

"I'll drive you home?" Blaine proposed softly, his hand stroking up and down Kurt's arm.

Kurt looked a bit deflated, knowing what happened was bad without it ever being said.

"Okay."

* * *

Kurt didn't get home until four in the morning, using his key to let himself in and walking as quietly as possible through the foyer. He was surprised to see that the kitchen light was still on, so he walked over to turn it off.

Sitting at the kitchen table was his dad, gulping down what must have been coffee due to the steam coming from it. He set the cup down gently, and finally looked up at Kurt.

"You wanna tell me where you've been, bud?" He asked, in such a calm way that Kurt knew he was in really deep shit.

"I…um, lost track of time…" Kurt trailed off, not answering the question. "I should have called you, sorry, I just really didn't-"

"Think?" Burt finished. "I know. Because you'd have to really not be usin' your brain to walk in this house at four in the  _morning_ , Kurt! I was worried  _sick_ …I almost had a stroke. I called all your friends. Even called that Chandler boy. No one knew where you were."

Kurt was silent, not knowing what to say or do. He really had messed up pretty badly, and he hadn't been yelled at like this in a while.

Burt sighed, running a hand over his bald head. "Look, I don't mean to yell at you like this. You're a good kid. And I get it. You're growing up, you have your own life and you don't need your old man in your business anymore. But as long as you're under this roof, I have a right to know where you are at all times. Get it?"

"Got it." Kurt said, voice faltering. "I'm really sorry, Dad…"

Burt couldn't help but pull him in for a tight hug, opting to ignore the smell of alcohol in favor of squeezing the actual life out of him. "At the end of the day, you're all I got, kid. So stay safe, okay?"

Kurt simply held onto him tighter, before pulling away. "It won't happen again."

"You're right. It won't." He said sternly. "Now head upstairs and get some sleep. "

And it wasn't until Kurt got to his room that he allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief.

* * *

"Dude. How are you still alive?" Finn asked the next morning. "I really thought you were dead meat."

Kurt grimaced, Finn's loud voice making his splitting headache just that much more grating. "Shhh. No talking. Quiet time."

"That doesn't work on me anymore. Last time I was quiet for a whole day and you still didn't give me the five dollars you promised me."

At this point Kurt's head was buried in his arms and he was groaning at how fucking  _loud_ everything was.

"Wait, dude.." Finn started. "Are you  _hungover_?" He asked, absolutely delighted at the prospect.

Kurt made a gargle like noise in response and Finn just laughed loudly, then whispered an "oops" and quieted himself.

Finn handed him a water bottle. "Make sure you drink this, okay? It helps kinda."

"Thanks." Kurt mumbled. "Now please stop talking."

Finn did just that, sticking around after he was finished eating just in case Kurt decided to throw up or something and needed someone to help him clean up before Carole or Burt found out. But he didn't, which was good because Finn's idea of cleaning up was to throw away the table cloth and hope no one noticed it was missing.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm coming very close to an end with this story and I just want to thank you guys for reading and commenting and responding so positively. Seriously, you're awesome. Anyway, enjoy this chapter.

The incident in the car was something they never really discussed; a moment of poor judgment; an exception to their carefully crafted rules. But Kurt would be lying if he said he didn't think about it, sometimes. The memory was like a hazy dream, and as time went on he almost questioned whether or not it actually happened. But then there were times where Blaine would stare at his mouth and get a faraway look in his eye, and that was confirmation enough.

Needless to say, he was glad they got it out of their systems. But he also wouldn't be completely opposed to it happening one or…thirteen more times. No, he definitely wouldn't mind.

That was what Kurt was thinking about in chemistry class, sporting an unattractive pair of goggles, when he had been called down to the office. His only worry at the time was that people would see the lines the ill-fitting spectacles had left on his impressionable skin.

"Can it wait ten minutes? He's in the middle of a-" Blaine started to say into the phone but the inevitable could not be bargained with. He paused. And nodded. "Kurt? They need you in the office. Now."

"Why?"

Blaine shrugged. "I'm sure it's something pointless." He mumbled.

And so Kurt took made his way down to the office, making sure that Mike filled in the charts in his lab notes while he was gone.

When he got to the office he saw that Finn was already there, sitting on a bench in a corner and seemingly brooding; his face making that dopey expression it had a way of forming when he was completely confused or had encountered something unprecedented.

It wasn't until Kurt got closer that he saw Finn's eyes were shining slightly with unshed tears.

"Finn? What's wrong?" Kurt's brain started spinning, putting the pieces together, imagining a million combinations that could result in over a thousand scenarios that all ended in disaster. But none of his theorizing could have prepared him for the truth.

"Mom's here to pick us up. She says…she says Burt's in the hospital?"

And, all at once, altogether, in one glorious heap, Kurt's world collapsed in on itself.

* * *

Kurt  _hated_ hospitals. Not in the way he hated Christmas or animal sweaters, but the kind of hate rooted in a deep fear. A fear that only surfaced when he was alone, and it was late, and his brain became an arsenal of weapons that only existed to bruise an already damaged exterior.

He hated the whiteness, the sterile nature. Or rather, sterile  _state_. There was nothing natural about a hospital; with its beeping machines and sweaty-palmed strangers and the smell of bleach that covered everything, everything, in an attempt to mask the real horrors.

The walls seemed to  _know,_ too. They understood that Kurt was an enemy, and they mocked him, seemed to say every time he walked out with a heart still beating,  _don't worry. Soon enough._

It was in this place that he lost the only kindness he'd ever known. Well, not lost. Lost was such a stupid, stupid word for it. He did not  _misplace_ his mother. She did not happen to  _accidentally_ wander out of his sight. But rather, she had been stolen. Ripped from him. Fought so hard to stay; in the last weeks, so hard that her knuckles were bloody from the force of it. All her reasoning, all her bargaining, all of her  _but I have a son, you see, he's only eight years old_. None of it mattered.

He couldn't lose a father, too. Because when it came down to it; when one took the time to simplify the equation of Kurt's life, there was only one factor that remained. His dad was all he had in the entire world , even if that had not always been clear. He saw it so clearly now; just as he was about to be ripped from him, too.

But there was no fighting. Only stillness. Assisted breathing. Death versus a comatose man. The odds were laughable.

Heart attack. What did the word mean to the healthy and the young? Nothing. They were invincible. They would live forever, and ever, and look death in the face and fucking dare him to make the first move. Heart attacks did not happen to the immortal.

But their loved ones did not have that same shield.

* * *

Kurt spent his energy consoling Carole, offering encouraging words to Finn. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose a loved one twice; to lose  _two_ fathers. He ignored the fact that he could possibly become an orphan. All alone, all alone. Everyone had left. No matter what Kurt did or how he prayed or what he prayed  _to_ no one would ever stay for long. Seventeen years. He supposed, given his track record, that was a bargain.

One day Carole would leave him, too. And then Finn. And all his glee friends, who would graduate and forget about him, lose touch. And even…Blaine?  _Especially_ Blaine.

Seeing his dad barely hang on to life made Kurt feel anchor-less. He was so close to losing everything that had made him.

And there would be no goodbye. And even if there would be, what would he even say?

He remained mute, simply held his hand, felt all the callouses, imagined his father saying in that amused voice of his,  _Yes, Kurt. I know. I do need to moisturize more. You're absolutely right,_ in a way he'd say just to humor his dictator of a son.

And he remained holding his hand long after everyone else had left. He feared soon there would be nothing there for him anymore.

But somehow that fact only made him hold on tighter.

* * *

The only times when Kurt felt like he could breathe was when he was alone. Every other instance it was laborious, an effort to keep up an act that he was never meant for.

Every time his phone vibrated his heart stopped in his chest; because any incoming phone call could be  _the_ phone call. And he laughed with shrill relief when it turned out to be Rachel calling to make sure he was taking good care of himself or Puck calling to offer to help him drink himself to oblivion.

He visited his dad whenever he could, and told him about his day and read to him the dumb comic strips in that week's Sunday paper and apologized for lying that night, for Blaine, for everything he'd become and for disappointing him. And making life so much  _harder_ for him. Kurt knew he wasn't the easiest kid to raise, not by a long shot, but his dad did a damn fine job.

But he still needed him. He always, always would.

* * *

"How's it feel being old?" Sebastian asked as way of greeting. Sometimes Blaine forgot that Sebastian was actually younger than him by a whole eight months.

"Depressing." Blaine answered shortly as he set the phone down and put it on speaker, getting dressed for work.

"You're being very unpleasant and it's unbecoming." Sebastian admonished, mocking him.

Blaine couldn't stop the short laugh that left his mouth. "Do you have a reason for calling?"

"To wish you a happy birthday, genius."

"You've always had a way with words."

Sebastian snorted. "Make it a good day, alright?"

"I will."

Sebastian hung up before Blaine had the chance to add "You too."

Blaine hadn't told Kurt, couldn't tell Kurt. The student had enough going on as is, hadn't been in school for over four days due to familial issues. A pile of papers of missed lab work sat on the corner of Blaine's desk and served as a reminder that Kurt was hurting terribly.

And, even more than that, he felt as if getting older had somehow widened the gap between them, made it that much harder to look into those ridiculously wide, trusting blue eyes that always managed to look slightly younger than the rest of him.

Why in the world would Kurt want someone as miserable and worn down as him? He wondered if Kurt ever saw him; really  _saw_ him for who he was. Or what he was.

There had been something truly jarring about seeing Kurt with someone his own age, seeing how  _right_ it had looked. Because that's the way things should have turned out. If there hadn't been a man named Blaine Anderson who had moved to Ohio and had smiled at all the wrong times and had gotten too close.

As if on cue his phone rang, and the aforementioned was on the other line.

"Hi." Kurt said, in that simplistic and apprehensive way that made Blaine's face actually ache from smiling so widely.

"Hey. How are you?"

"Good." Kurt said, then corrected himself. "Better. Much better."

The line stayed silent for a while, and Blaine could hear in the background what sounded like cars driving by. At least Kurt was getting out of the house. He was worried he'd lock himself away.

"Are you getting ready for work now?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah. Why?" Blaine asked.

"I figured…I don't know. That you'd want to take a day off, considering.."

Blaine paused, a little taken off guard by the statement. "Considering?"

"It's your birthday. Obviously."

Blaine couldn't even begin to act surprised. Kurt had a way of knowing every single little thing, even when he was pretending not to pay attention to what was happening. He'd probably seen something around the apartment earlier in the year and marked it on his calendar.

"I didn't want to tell you." Blaine admitted.

"Why not?"

"Because…it'll make things weird."

"I'm not following. You're the same Blaine now as you were twenty four hours ago."

"I'm… _old_. I'm getting old. And I figured you wouldn't want…that."

He heard Kurt laughing on the other line, and simultaneously a muffled version of the same thing outside of his door. "Would you mind letting me in? So I can tell you how stupid you sound in person?"

Blaine didn't even have it in him to act remotely surprised, simply going to the front and unlocking the door to see the same comforting sight he'd missed terribly in the last few days. Kurt was dressed down considerably, wearing a dark blue hoodie that could almost be mistaken as plain had it not been for the asymmetrical zipper.

"Funny. You don't look like you have acute arthritis." Kurt said as way of greeting, closing the door behind him.

"Ha ha. Hilarious."

Kurt grinned, leaning against the arm of the sofa. "I'm serious. With the way you were going on I was expecting gray hair and wrinkles."

"Okay. I get your point. I'm not  _old-_ "

"Not even remotely."

"- _but,_ I'm older. A whole  _year_ has passed by and I've accomplished nothing. And don't even get me started on  _you_."

"Me?" Kurt asked, genuinely surprised. "What does any of this have to do with me?"

"You're…you've got a whole life ahead of you. You've got this whole exciting future that's just waiting to begin and I'm…I'm like the antithesis to that. I'm.."

Kurt silenced him with a kiss, gentle and earnest in nature. He made a move to pull away but it was Blaine that lingered, held him in place so it could last just one second longer before pulling away.

"That's what I think about your silly rant." Kurt said.

And just like that all of Blaine's worries became trivial, virtually non-existant. Because if it didn't matter to Kurt than it simply did not matter.

* * *

They didn't mention that a thing was wrong, which Kurt knew was challenge for Blaine. Overly compassionate Blaine and his silly questions and stupid inquiries. But this time he somehow knew to stay silent, which Kurt would never stop being grateful for.

He managed to convince Blaine to call in sick, which was an abuse of power on his part. But he just needed  _proof_. Proof that he could get someone, anyone to stay.

And of course, he could. All it took was a pout, a thumb hooked into the belt-loop of Blaine's pants, and the tiniest of tugs forward. And then Blaine had his phone in his hand and was faking a cough as he talked to the school's attendance office.

The small victory was satisfying, for a little while, but then there was nothing but the heavy sinking feeling in his chest that he'd do anything to get rid of.

"Let's go somewhere." Kurt proposed.

" _Or_ we could stay in." Blaine said suggestively.

"I'm serious. It's your birthday. Let's go somewhere." Blaine pulled a face. "You shouldn't be so antisocial."

Blaine pursed his lips in the way he did when he found Kurt's comment clever but didn't want to let on as much. "You know that's not the problem."

Kurt liked to avoid talking about The Problem; liked to pretend their reality was a fever dream and that the real world was much, much more agreeable.

This whole country stretched from sea to shining sea, and in its entirety there had to be at least one place where the two of them could be alone. And he told Blaine just that. And knew that the teacher had a spot in mind by the way his eyes lit up.

"We can't." Blaine said, more to himself than to Kurt.

"We can't do this, we shouldn't do that." Kurt mocked. "Don't you ever get tired of being such a drag?"

" _Kurt_."

"Just saying. We  _could_. If we really wanted to."

And the vote was unanimous. Blaine slipped on his shoes and soon the two of them were in his car headed to some other place.

* * *

They got to the cabin in two hours, which Blaine had said was private property that belonged to his ex. And Kurt wanted to ask  _isn't it a bit messed up that we're here_ but he also had an acute understanding of how therapeutic it could be to be vindictive.

Kurt tossed his phone into the glove compartment, not wanting to deal with the never-ending messages from people inquiring his well being.

The quaint little cabin was hardly a few footfalls away from the lakeside, and the fact that Sebastian actually  _owned_ everything made Kurt very hesitant to walk through the front doors, much less touch or move anything.

"Something wrong?" Blaine asked, noticing Kurt's hesitance.

"Not really. I just feel weird, I guess? Like I'm intruding."

"You're a guest. I invited you." Blaine said. "Anything here is yours."

To further demonstrate this point, he flopped onto the couch, patting the spot next to him and wearing that boyish grin of his.

"I'd rather stand." Kurt said a bit stubbornly. What he wasn't expecting next was the cushion that hit him square on the chest.

"Loosen up."

Kurt promptly picked up the pillow and hurled it at his oversized head. "I'm going outside." He announced curtly, not in the least bit surprised when Blaine followed after him.

He found a nice patch of grass, and he took off both shoes and laid down, delighting in the way the grass tickled his feet. And trying very, very hard not to think about how long it had been since he'd gotten the chance to do that. Back when he still hadn't lost all his baby teeth.

"You have monkey feet." Blaine teased as he laid down next to him, and Kurt rolled onto his side and shoved him lightly, trying his hard not to smile when all Blaine did was laugh. (He failed miserably.)

"You and I aren't on very good terms, Anderson."

"That's  _Mister_ Anderson to you. Brat."

"You haven't  _earned_ my respect. Jerk."

And Kurt saw a very familiar gleam in Blaine's eye and he should have known to run, but it was too late because then Blaine was on his feet and scooping Kurt up in his arms.

"God, you're heavier than you look." Blaine said, and one could practically hear his muscles and joints groaning in complaint.

"Put me down."

"Apologize."

"Never."

"Then I'm afraid you did this to yourself." Blaine said ominously, taking a few steps over to the lake and standing at its shore.

"If you do this I swear to-" But mid sentence Kurt was submerged in water before he resurfaced, wet and sputtering.

Blaine was laughing uncontrollably. "You should see the look on your face."

Kurt looked absolutely miserable, and his hair plastered to his forehead and his clothes soaked. "Are you just going to stand there?" He said.

But Blaine was already ahead of him, taking off his own shoes and setting them aside before jumping in, creating a completely unnecessary splash before resurfacing, leisurely floating on his back and letting his eyes close.

Kurt swam out into the lake just because he could, needing to keep himself busy in the ensuing silence. When he swam back Blaine's eyes were still closed.

"Blaine."

Blaine opened one eye. "Hm?"

"Whatcha doin'?"

"I'm relaxing."

"That's awfully boring of you." Kurt remarked.

When Blaine still didn't move he splashed him. Blaine stirred in surprise, swimming over to Kurt and grabbing his wrists just in time to stop him from splashing again. "You are  _such_ an attention whore." He teased.

"Am not."

" _Are too_." Blaine said, mocking him lightly before pulling him in for a kiss.

And there was something so fascinating about the way Kurt's abrasive nature would completely diminish every time they kissed, and he'd become practically pliant in Blaine's arms. And it was in that moment that Blaine wondered how easier if it would be if he could just keep Kurt there, and they could live in their own little world, just the two of them and the grass and the water and the sky.

He used to be attracted to a life of glamour and prestige; he'd been taught everything he knew about happiness from his well-to-do family and their functions and their diamonds and their maids. It wasn't until he was older that he realized how simple it was.

Happiness was never about where or when or why, but rather  _who_.

And having Kurt kiss him almost greedily while fighting the hold on his wrists was Blaine's momentary definition of happiness.

Another crucial fact: one's definition of happiness was allowed to change and grow as they did.

Blaine pulled away slowly, and the moment he  _did_ let go of Kurt's wrists he was promptly splashed in the face.

"Am  _not_." Kurt repeated, before swimming away, and Blaine made quick work of swimming after him.

* * *

The two went inside when they were too tired to keep swimming, huddling close for warmth as they went to change out of their wet clothes. He showed Kurt to the bedroom and left him momentarily, saying he'd come back with towels for the two of them.

He came back, towels in hand, lightly knocking on the door before pushing it open slightly. However, it seemed as if Kurt hadn't heard him, because he was pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his lithe, toned back.

And something in the back of Blaine's head told him he should look away, but it was like he was frozen in place as he watched Kurt do the most ridiculous movement to shimmy out of those skinny jeans he insisted on wearing. (And thank god he did).

When Kurt started turning around Blaine pulled the door closed, taking a deep breath to clear his head before knocking on the door. He heard Kurt's bare feet padding on the hard wood floor, heard him struggle with the faulty door knob before opening the door slightly, only sticking out his hand for the proffered towel, then closing the door again.

"Next time you should take a picture."

Blaine nearly choked on air at the sound of Kurt's muffled voice from behind the door. "I…I wasn't…sorry. That was completely wrong of me."

" _Completely_." Kurt stressed. "The least you could have done was join me."

Blaine breathed a sigh of relief. So he hadn't crossed a line. "Don't tempt me."

"There's nothing wrong with indulging." Kurt said. And that was the oddest thing about him. Sometimes he'd pretend they were normal, and other times he'd have this acute sense of awareness; this innate knowledge of all they were and all they shouldn't be. And he'd make a complete mockery of it.

 _Indulging_. Like they were discussing cheating on a diet. Although he supposed the comparison was justified. It wouldn't  _hurt_ anyone if he just…except it would. In the long run it would.

It's like Blaine said before. Kurt made it so  _easy_ for people to take advantage of him.

And it was just when Blaine was contemplating taking Kurt up on his offer that Kurt opened the door, changed into something comfortable and still toweling his hair dry.

He seemed especially young just then.

"Does your mom even know you're not home?"

" _Step_ mom." Kurt corrected.

"She's probably really worried about you."

Kurt draped the towel over his shoulders; crossed his arms. "I don't want to go home yet."

"I know. But we've already been gone for several hours."

"You're  _trying_ to get rid of me." Kurt accused, his voice taking on a completely different quality.

"No, I'm not-"

"Yes, you are. You just...you don't really want me, do you?"

Blaine was absolutely bewildered at why Kurt was acting this way, until he realized what was happening. Kurt  _planned_ for Blaine to see him naked. He wanted to tempt him. But what for?

"That's not it. You know that's not it." Blaine said softly. "What's gotten into you lately?"

"Nothing." Kurt said too quickly. "I'm  _trying_ to give you what you want."

"What I  _want_ is to spend time with you. All that other stuff can wait." Blaine said, a soothing hand stroking over Kurt's hip.

"You  _say_ that now but I…I see how frustrated you are. And you'll resent me for keeping you waiting and you'll…you'll…" Kurt trailed off, taking a deep breath and exhaling shakily, whatever his thought was being so horrible that he couldn't bear to say it.

"Leave you." Blaine finished for him, his heart heavy for the completely delusional boy in front of him. He pulled him into a hug, his hand comfortingly petting his damp hair. "Oh, Kurt." He sighed, pressing kisses along his neck and shoulders and rocking him carefully as Kurt finally broke down and sobbed.

"I don't know if I can do it again." Kurt mumbled quietly into Blaine's shoulder. "I can't…if I lose him…I…"

"Shhh." Blaine rubbed circles into Kurt's back. "It's okay. You're okay." He whispered, blinking back his own tears. Seeing Kurt this upset made him feel even more guilty about what  _could_ have happened earlier. And how he was one misjudgment away from taking advantage of a grieving child.


	32. Chapter 32

"I suck." Kurt said from the passenger's seat of the car, head resting against the side window as they drove back to Lima.

"Yup." Blaine agreed, earning him a half-hearted whack on the arm. He laughed. "Kidding. I had a great time."

"Aside from the waterworks?"

"Aside from the waterworks." Blaine confirmed. "It was still the best birthday I've had in years."

Kurt seemed pleased with himself. "Still. Sorry for going all post-partum on you."

Blaine laughed again, much to Kurt's confusion. "I'm fairly certain you have no idea what that means."

"I heard it in a movie once." Kurt admitted. "But you get my point."

"I do. And no apologies needed, alright?"

"Okay."

* * *

Kurt got home and Carole answered the door, wrapping her arms around him and admonishing him for not answering his phone for ten hours straight. He apologized profusely, actually feeling guilty for letting his own issues make him blind to everyone else's.

He said he had just needed time to think. That was all. A quiet place to think.

The three of them sat down for dinner. Finn talked animatedly about Glee Club that day, in an endearing effort to distract everyone from the obvious absence. Kurt laughed at all the right times and even added a few comments of his own.

"It's just sort of hard to practice the whole routine with some of the harmonies missing." Finn said, and Carole shot him a look but he ignored it. "Do you think you'll come back soon?"

"You can take as long as you need, honey." Carole said encouragingly.

"Actually, I'm going back tomorrow." Kurt said, much to the surprise of both of them. "I don't want to miss too much work."

"Are you sure?" Carole asked.

"Positive." Kurt said, offering her a reassuring smile.

* * *

It turned out getting back to that godforsaken building and getting into the usual routine made things a lot easier on Kurt. It was better than locking himself up in his room.

He was graced with a wide berth from any football players or anyone on the hockey team; Finn, Puck, and Karofsky all doing their best to keep people out of his way.

Chemistry class was predictably tortuous, and he still felt a bit awkward around Blaine after his break-down—not postpartum related, as he was not pregnant, and never would be—but the hard work kept him busy.

Mercedes sought him out actively, saying how her whole church was praying that everything worked out for him. Even if he didn't believe in that sort of thing, he still couldn't help but feel the swelling gratitude hit him so strongly that it made him almost speechless. Mercedes believed, and that's all that mattered.

Rachel and her dads prepared a gift basket for them, filled with all sorts of baked goods and fruits as well as, oddly enough, a blender.

"I added that." Tina explained. "To replace the one I broke last time I was over." It was a large basket, but he figured Finn could help him carry it to the car later.

Everyone in the Glee club expressed their condolences, including Puck who had kept it to a simple, "Sorry about your dad, dude." but it still meant a lot coming from him.

They rehearsed the sequence from start to finish, Quinn cluing him in on any changes they'd made while he was gone, including a few cut bars of music and an added three-step turn.

And it was somewhere between their rendition of "A Little Respect" and Rachel's third solo that Kurt realized how silly he had been, how irrational his fear of everyone leaving him was. He still had so many people that cared,  _genuinely_ cared about him. It was like Quinn said. He got too caught up in his own sob story sometimes that he was blind to all the good things in his life.

It's that thought that would help him, guide him through dark times, and in hindsight Kurt is glad he'd realized this while he was young.

* * *

Tutoring time with Blaine was dedicated to solely  _learning_ for once, what with finals coming up and Kurt needing an A in order to bring his final grade up to an acceptable B minus.

It was during one of these Wednesday afternoons that Blaine got a phone call, and answered it without even checking who was calling.

"Hello?"

"Did you go the cabin recently?" Sebastian's voice carried through the phone's speakers.

Blaine heart skipped a beat, hoping he hadn't left anything particularly incriminating. "Uh, yeah…I went to pick up some of my old stuff. I should have told you."

Kurt's eyes widened when he realized what Blaine was referring to, and Blaine held a finger to his mouth to shush the impending rant.

"Well, you left something. A pair of pants." Sebastian said, seemingly calm.

"Oh. I should come get them."

Kurt nipped playfully at the finger Blaine held to shush him, causing Blaine to cast him a warning glare.

"There's something odd about these, though." Sebastian continued lightly. "They seem as if they'd be a bit tight on you."

"They must've shrunk in the dryer."

"Must've." Sebastian repeated. There was a weighted pause. "Well, don't let me keep you. I know you usually tutor on Wednesdays."

"Bye, Sebastian."

"And I'll have the pants at my house if you want to pick them up later." Sebastian added.

Blaine hung up, heart thumping at the incredibly close call. "You left your  _pants_ there?"

"You're the one who brought all my stuff out to the car." Kurt pointed out. "You're getting forgetful, old man."

Blaine scoffed. "Careful."

"I'm sure you'll forget this conversation even happened, anyway."

Blaine pushed Kurt's legs off from where they were propped on his desk and trying not to crack a smile as the student laughed.

* * *

Blaine drove by Sebastian's house after school, ringing the doorbell and trying to appear as calm and collected as possible. He had rehearsed several scenarios in his head, one of them being that Sebastian had already figured out everything and reported Blaine to the cops.

In that scenario he'd deny, deny, deny.

But when Sebastian answered the door, it wasn't the police with him, but rather a man with greying hair and one of the best groomed mustaches Blaine had seen in years.

"Well don't just stand there. We've got a lot of stuff to talk about." Sebastian said, already sounding annoyed.

Blaine, considering running in the other direction, instead tentatively walking through the doors and sitting down on the living room sofa, across from Sebastian and the stranger.

"Dweeb, this is Dr. Nabokov. Dr. Nabokov, Dweeb." Sebastian introduced the two, voice sounding incredibly bored with the situation.

The doctor leaned forward and took Blaine's hand, his grip firm for someone that old. "It's a pleasure to meet you, my boy! An absolute pleasure."

Blaine stood slack-jawed for a stunned moment as he realized where he knew the man from. It was  _the_ Dr. Nabokov, the man who wrote scientific journals that Blaine spent the better half of graduate school studying.

"What's this about?" Blaine asked as the man continued to shake his hand a bit too vigorously.

"Dr. Nabokov here has been trying to gather up a new research team." Sebastian explained.

"What does that have to do with me?"

Sebastian sighed. "I dug up some of your old work, got a few references from your old professors, and voila."

"What he's saying, Mr. Anderson, is that I'd be delighted to invite you to come work with me."

Blaine blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"He's offering you a job." Sebastian said, wearing his trademark smirk. "You're welcome."

Blaine knew something like that must have taken  _months,_ had to have been something Sebastian was working on even before they broke up. He felt guilty, knowing while he was busy flirting with students after hours Sebastian had been putting this together.

While Blaine was being unfaithful Sebastian was trying to right all his wrongs. And all at once Blaine realized who was really the villain in this story.

* * *

Things happened quickly after that. He and Dr. Nabokov sat down together and discussed where their research would be based—UPENN—as well as the perks of the job e.g. salary (which was incredibly impressive when compared to his steady teaching wages), medical benefits, and even getting to guest lecture at various colleges.

All in all, he'd be a fool to say no.

"Thank you, Doctor. Honestly. But I'm afraid I'll have to turn down your offer."

Blaine could have sworn he saw Dr. Nabokov's mustache twitch with utmost disdain.

"Excuse us." Sebastian said with a charming smile before dragging Blaine off to the kitchen.

"Are you out of your god damned mind?" Sebastian hissed. "I put my ass out on the line for this. For you. Don't blow this."

"Maybe this isn't what I want. Have you ever thought of that?" Blaine whispered harshly back.

Sebastian stared at him, eyes searching and searching until they became fixed. "It's about him, isn't it? The guy you brought to the cabin?"

"How did you-"

"I'm not brain dead. It's fine. You've moved on, I get it." Sebastian said. "But I don't want you throwing your life away all because of some  _guy_."

"I did. For you."

Sebastian's expression softened. "I know. I know that. You don't think that it kills me inside? But I'm trying to fix this. Because I…I love you, idiot. And just because we're not together that doesn't mean I suddenly get to stop, okay?"

"Sebastian…" Blaine said softly, moving to hold his hand, but his stubborn counterpart stepped back. Blaine knew; knew the reason why Sebastian hated being vulnerable and emotive and honest.

"Just think it over." Sebastian said, not making eye contact with Blaine, voice pleading him to drop whatever else he was thinking of saying. Blaine remained silent.

And so, for the next few weeks, Blaine's life consisted of thinking it over. Because that's what Sebastian wanted and how could he say no?

* * *

"I'm ready for my close-up." Kurt practically purred into Mercedes' camera, feather boa artfully draped around his neck. Naturally, Puck appeared out of nowhere, tugged on the loose end, and nearly choked him.

"Dude. You said you'd drive me to Chipotle." Puck said as way of explanation. "I've been looking for you for ten minutes."

"Kurt's a bit busy right now." Mercedes interjected. "He's helping me come up with costume designs."

Puck rolled his eyes. "I am  _not_ wearing a feather boa. That's like, confirmed gay."

"No one's making you wear anything." Kurt shot back. "Now wait outside. I'll be five minutes."

When Puck left the costume closet Kurt swapped a few more ideas for color schemes. Just because Puck went and got his license suspended didn't mean it was Kurt's responsibility to take him everywhere. He purposely took longer than expected, ignoring the multiple times his phone buzzed. After fifteen minutes, he figured he wouldn't keep him waiting any longer.

"You're impossible." Kurt said as he opened his car, getting into the driver's seat as Puck entered from the other side.

"Not impossible. Just starving." Puck argued.

Kurt pulled out of the parking lot, quickly getting onto the road. "I sure hope you brought your own money this time, because we're not having a repeat of the taco bell incident."

"I'm covered." Puck assured him in that smug way of his, and Kurt just knew that was his small way of boasting about his increasingly successful pool business.

Then they were silent for a few moments, and it was when Kurt reached to turn on the radio that Puck finally spoke.

"So…you've been taking care of yourself?"

Kurt didn't know what to say to that at first, especially considering who it was coming from. He and Puck were all clawing and biting, and rarely did they ever get sentimental around each other.

"Yes."

"Good." Puck said gruffly. "Because I know it's rough. Losing a father."

"I didn't  _lose_ him." Kurt gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force of it.

"Right. Yeah. You know what I mean." Puck amended. "What I'm trying to say is, I know how tough it is having to go without a dad. Whether for a week or…It's hard."

"I hope you're not trying to equate my dad being in a coma with your dead-beat father walking out on you." Kurt quipped, before he could stop himself. And then it was in the silence that he knew he'd taken it a step too far. "I'm sorry. That was…I shouldn't have said that."

Puck shrugged. "I get it. You're pissed. People like us say stupid shit when we're mad."

"People like us?"

"We've both been through shit, man. We see the world for what it is. The other guys, they wouldn't understand it." Puck mumbled, hanging a hand out the window to catch a bit of the breeze.

"What makes you think I understand it?"

"Dude, we went sledding. We're like, blood brothers."

Kurt had to glance at Puck's giant smirk to realize he had been joking. Kurt snorted.

"Ah, yes. It all makes sense now." He said, pulling into the parking lot of Chipotle. "Hurry up."

Puck got out of the car and closed it, but leaned into the window. "Do you want anything? Like…a salad or something? They've got salads, I think."

"Ew. No. Pass."

"Suit yourself, Princess."

And it was as he waited for Puck to come back that he realized the ex-convict was kind-of-sort-of one of his best friends.

* * *

"So when do you leave for D.C.?" Blaine asked, Kurt's head in his lap and the rest of his body sprawled across the couch, the two of them not watching Pride and Prejudice as it became mindless buzz in the background. He stroked Kurt's hair, knowing he liked it but was too prideful to say so.

"In three days." Kurt said. "It's kind of nerve wracking. I haven't even started packing."

"Well, try not to pack your whole closet, alright?"

"Yes, sir." Kurt said in his usual playful manner, not meaning anything by it but gasping scandalously as he saw Blaine's cheeks color. "That's not like a  _thing_ for you, is it?"

"No, I-" Blaine stammered.

"It  _so_ is." Kurt teased, grinning. "Gross."

"Oh, whatever, like you don't have a thing."

"No. Because my mind isn't filled with acts of depravity."

"I seriously can't tell whether you're joking or not." Blaine admitted after a moment.

"You aren't  _that_ ancient." Kurt reminded him. "You've got to remember what it's like. The mood swings and the growing pains and always feeling some weird cross between horny and hungry."

"You're hot when you're all hormonal." Blaine teased, yanking his hair a little because he had done it once while they were making out and remembered that Kurt liked that, too.

Kurt bit his lip. "Quit making fun of me."

"I'm not…so, have you ever had a wet dream about me?"

"Blaine!" Kurt exclaimed, instantly grabbing a cushion and hiding his face with it. Blaine gently pried his fingers away and removed the cushion blocking his view, and was greeted with Kurt looking wonderfully flushed and deliciously embarrassed.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"I hate you." Kurt mumbled. "Aren't we supposed to be watching this stupid movie?"

"If you think it's so stupid we could put on something more suited to your taste." Blaine said. "I'm sure Sesame Street reruns would be on this time of night."

"I'm glad to see you've come to terms with your ailment" Kurt quipped.

Blaine laughed, not as offended by the false accusation as he would have been a month or two ago. "You're feisty today."

"I'm feisty every day. It's sort of my thing."

"You could be using that mouth of yours for more productive things."

Blaine knew Kurt was fighting off the urge to hide again, but didn't want to seem childish, wanted to appear all grown up just for Blaine. "You're being all filthy again." He admonished.

"I'm sorry." He said in the way that indicated that he really, really wasn't. His thumb traced over Kurt's bottom lip.

He watched Kurt suck in a gasp of air, used it as his opportunity to push his thumb just past his lips, felt the warm wetness of his mouth. And when Kurt swirled his tongue around it Blaine thought he'd just about  _die_.

For a brief moment he wondered if he was ever like this before, so attracted to someone that the smallest thing drove him out of his mind. He felt like his whole body was on fire, and they were both completely clothed.

"Jesus, Kurt." Blaine murmured, tugging his hair again and pulling him up so they were face to face, letting his wet thumb trace Kurt's slick lower lip before replacing it with lips of his own.

Kurt kissed him back with urgency, quickly demonstrating that he had moved beyond mimicry and developed a style of his own, a teasing graze of teeth that always made Blaine go crazy.

And all too soon Kurt pulled away, seemingly surprised at his own actions, his eyes wide. "So…we were talking about Nationals…"

Blaine's eyebrow furrowed, having to go far back into the conversation to remember what they were talking about. "I…oh, right! You were telling me you hadn't packed."

And then the two continued to talk innocently, and Blaine had to pretend like he wasn't still thinking about the wonders Kurt's mouth was capable of working.

Kurt would be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't totally…well… _effected_ by what had happened, but he knew that sometimes it was his responsibility to steer things into safe territory, knowing Blaine had a tendency to get carried away and then feel incredibly guilty about it for the rest of his life.

So he talked for as long as he possibly could—he was very good at that—until it got late and he had an excuse to leave without making it seem like it was because of The Thing and then he mumbled something about having to visit his dad in the hospital and the mention of Kurt's  _comatose father_ was enough to make them both sober up.

Kurt left the apartment, slightly regretting that he didn't let things go any farther, but he figured they had all the time in the world, because neither of them were going anywhere anytime soon.


	33. Chapter 33

"Kurt. Move your feet."

"In a minute." Kurt said, legs obnoxiously sprawled out in Quinn's vicinity as he attempted to stretch.

"At least stretch in the other direction." Quinn suggested.

Puck opened one eye, squinting it in Kurt's general direction as if to say 'I fucking dare you'.

Maybe Kurt was being a bit too pro-active about his first time flying. But he'd read in articles that one should stretch every thirty minutes to prevent blood clots forming. Quite frankly, he didn't understand why everyone wasn't doing it.

He was going to D.C., excuse him for being overly prepared.

* * *

Once they all arrived and checked in they were allowed to tour the city.

Finn kept searching for the Obamas, hoping they would would somehow run into the president of the United States on the street and get a Hudmel/Obama family photo but alas, that wasn't meant to be. Kurt took ample pictures of other things, however, sending some back to Carole and even one or two to Blaine, although he knew he was busy with other things.

Mr. Schue kept reminding them to stop yelling so much; something about needing to save their voices or something. But of course, he hadn't really heard the whole warning because he was too busy laughing at Quinn in her Abraham Lincoln like top-hat that she'd found from the gift shop.

It was an amazing sight, because he had never seen Quinn act so child-like and worry free before. It seemed that he wasn't the only one that needed a change in scene.

The actual performing was the most exhilarating part, because even if things changed he would always have that memory of being on stage with a group of people that were his family. Sure, they bickered, argued, got pregnant, went psycho, started rumors, cheated on each other, you name it, it probably happened. But there was love there, too.

And of course, not all of them would always be friends. Some would move away and some would lose touch and one or two of them may leave completely. But he'd always,  _always_ have the feeling, that moment, the stage and the crowd and the lights.

And as long as he had that, they never truly left him.

* * *

"So, Mr. Hummel, how does it feel winning a third place trophy?" Quinn asked, using her hairbrush as a fake microphone.

"Exhilarating." Kurt answered. "I feel like a million bucks."

"And you, Mr. Abrams?" She asked, crouching down to meet Artie's level.

Kurt laughed, leaving the celebrating group of kids and walking ahead of them toward the bus that would take them back to their hotel. Even though they lost, it was still a pretty good night, and even Rachel managed to keep high spirits. They all had next year, and the fact they even made it to Nationals was amazing.

He took out his phone, planning on calling Blaine to tell him the news, when he saw that he had five missed calls from Carole.

His heart sank, hand shaking as he went to call her back. Because it couldn't be; it simply couldn't be. The night had been going so well.

Carole picked up on the first ring. "Kurt? Kurt? Is Finn anywhere near you?"

Kurt walked behind him, parting through the crowd of kids to find him. "Yeah, I'll find him. What's wrong? Is he..?"

And then Kurt heard a familiar gruff of a laugh in the background, one that he'd recognize anywhere. "Carole, tell the kid m'fine before  _he_ has a heart attack."

And dread was quickly replaced with elation as he felt his face break out into a grin. "Dad?! Is that dad?!"

Carole laughed. "Yes, Kurt. He's woken up. The doctor's say he's getting stronger and stronger by the hour. He's still got a long way to go but at least he's…he's…"

_Alive._

The New Directions and Mr. Schue seemed to hear the news, because soon they were all cheering and Finn grabbed Kurt into a big hug which prompted a huge group hug filled with teenagers that smelled of sweat and hairspray but he couldn't bring himself to mind.

Because his dad would be just fine. And everything was just as it should be.

* * *

"Kurt, that's  _great_ news." Blaine gushed, knowing how much his dad's condition had been taking a toll on him. "I'm really, really glad."

"So…how are things with you? Did you get my pictures? Isn't the Washington Monument like, crazy big?" Kurt babbled on, and on, not really giving Blaine time to give much of an answer.

And Blaine supposed that was a good thing, because he wanted to remember Kurt like this. Happy and smiling and feeling on top of the world.

"Anyway, I've got to start packing. Early flight tomorrow. But I'll see you soon, right?"

"See you soon. Now, get some rest."

"Okay." Kurt said, but didn't hang up right away. Neither did Blaine.

"Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"Is there something else you needed?"

"Uh…no. No. I just wanted to…I wanted to say…" A weighted pause. "I wanted to say good night."

Blaine couldn't help but smile to himself, years of practice letting him know what that really meant. "Good night. Sweet dreams."

He hoped Kurt would stay sweet, and that he wouldn't let his experience with Blaine jade him.

* * *

Blaine had packed then unpacked, then repacked, then semi-packed, and now he was at a point where boxes filled with various things lay half-hazardly around his apartment.

And he still hadn't made up his mind, not consciously, at least, but there was only ever one option.

He had to take that job. He had given up his whole future for someone he loved before, and had the audacity to consider doing the same for someone he'd never be able to have a future with.

Not a practical one, anyway. He knew from the start. He knew what he and Kurt had, whatever it was and however peculiar, would come to an end. This was the real world, and they both had dreams and aspirations that didn't involve each other. It was pointless to pretend otherwise.

But he'd grown accustomed to Kurt's snide comments; all the rough exterior to his underlying sweetness. He was like a kitten who puffed out their fur to appear larger, and scarier, but Blaine would always fondly remember seeing right through all of it, seeing a side of Kurt that he rarely let other people see.

Maybe the best thing for him would be to forget about Kurt altogether, pack up and leave before he could even see him, but he knew they were more than that. Kurt deserved more.

And so he'd stay, torture himself with the knowledge that all good things end, all for the sake of a boy who had him wrapped around his little, dainty finger.

* * *

"I got a ninety on my chem final!" Kurt exclaimed into the phone, causing Blaine to have to hold it far away from his ear.

"I know. I graded it, remember?"

"Oh. Right." Kurt said, only deterred for a moment before going write back to speaking. "I can't believe you didn't tell me."

"The suspense must have been killing you."

"You devil." Kurt hummed. "Did you miss me?"

"I did." He pressed the phone even closer to his hear.

"Like, loads?"

"Naturally."

"Good answer."

Blaine laughed. "This is the part where you talk about how much you missed me."

"You're assuming I did...And I guess you'd be right."

There was a long, silent moment, only sullied by the sound of their breathing. Kurt didn't seem to notice it, while Blaine was already mourning the inevitable end of it.

"Can I see you tomorrow?"

Blaine heard what was clearly the clicks of enthusiastic typing. "I kind of don't want to leave my dad alone right now. I know it's silly, I mean, he's got Carole and all, but-"

"It's not silly." Blaine quickly interjected, already feeling incredibly selfish for thinking to take Kurt away from his family, even for an evening.

Blaine could feel rather than see the smile that he knew was meant just for him. "You always just get things. I wish everyone just got things like you did."

"Not everyone's this smart."

A laugh. "No need to brag, Mr. Anderson."

He knew he'd miss him terribly.

* * *

Kurt ended the conversation with Blaine, making up an excuse about having to finish a book report. He needed to devote his full attention to the conversation on the screen.

Now, Kurt wasn't exactly one to talk to strangers, but this email caught his eye. Because although it appeared to be spam at first glance, the heading was enough to pull him in.

_We need to talk_ , it said. Simple. Not necessarily sweet but it was too much to ignore. Kurt opened the email, hoping he didn't just buy the bait for some wicked virus or hackers.

It read the following:

_Listen, I'm not sure if I've got the right person, and if I don't just ignore this, but if you are who I think you are we need to get a few things straight._

_1\. Blaine's got a job offer in Pennsylvania. In case you weren't aware._

_2\. He's on the fence about it. And I'm fairly certain it's your fault._

_3\. If you give even an ounce of a damn about him, you'll let him go._

_Glad we had this chat,_

_Smythe_

Kurt's head was swimming with questions. It didn't make  _sense_. Blaine hadn't mentioned anything about a job, and they were just talking five minutes ago. And it didn't take him long to connect the last name Smythe to that picture in Blaine's apartment of the man with sandy hair and an ever frozen smile stuck behind a pane of glass.

He had always been so  _abstract_. In a way he still was; only being represented by a random email that said words Kurt couldn't quite wrap his head around.

He supposed all it really said was this: Blaine is leaving. And there's nothing you can do to stop it.

He always thought it would be the other way around. Kurt would leave for New York and Blaine would stay in Ohio, but he always banked on the two of them having at least another year together. And  _then_  he would be ready. Except he wouldn't have been.

That's all they were, really. One road barreling towards the inevitable. What would it matter if they took a short cut?

All at once he realized how dense he'd been; how Blaine held him in such little regard that he was the last person to find out about something that could change everything.

Kurt refused to shed a single tear over it, knowing that was a juvenile way to react and that was the  _last_ thing he needed to be in this instance. Instead, he'd be smart, he'd be graceful, and he'd handle it with some god damn dignity.

And so he was of complete sane mind and body when he put on his shoes and stormed out to the car.

* * *

Blaine heard the frantic knocks and knew who it was instantly. Kurt had a tendency to forget that there was a buzzer that did the job just as well, always opting for the more dramatic.

Blaine opened the door, not even getting out a "hi" before Kurt walked in.

"You've already started packing, I see." He mused, doing a 360 to obverse the various boxes Blaine hadn't had the mind to hide.

"I…what?"

"I figured you'd need help. I remember when I moved. It took us over a month to get everything in a box. Granted, my stuff probably accounted for 75 percent of the boxes."

Blaine blinked. "Who told you?"

Kurt stopped surveying the room, taking a deep breath for courage, it seemed, before looking at Blaine head on. "Sebastian. He's a lovely person, you know. Really cares about you."

_Like me. I really care about you._

"Kurt…" Blaine said softly.

"I'm not mad. I'm not…I just wish I found out from you."

Blaine wished he had, too. He supposed it was his fault for not changing his password, making it so easy for Sebastian to snoop through his things and take matters into his own hands. Blaine's fondness would never deter for him, but he liked him a little less for being so crass.

"He wasn't rude, was he? He can be rude."

Kurt shrugged, deciding to lounge on Blaine's couch. "No. He was very blunt. But not rude."

Blaine nodded. "Listen, I don't…I'm not even sure if this kind of thing is for me, you know? I've been so out of practice. I haven't done any independent research in  _years_ and.."  _Say the word. Say the word and I'll stay._

Kurt was silent.

"Anyway. I was going to tell you tomorrow. And we were going to sit down and talk, weigh the pros and cons. I never intended to make this decision alone."

"You're going." Kurt stated, no question in his voice. "You have to go. You've got dreams, Blaine, and I'm  _nothing_ compared to them. I'm nothing. Not in the long run."

"Don't say that." Blaine snapped, running a hand through his ungelled hair in frustration. "Don't you  _dare_."

He was tired. Exhausted, even, of others telling him what he should want for himself. Even Kurt, masked in good intentions and all his earnestness, still wanted to decide Blaine's fate. But who was he, or anyone, to say that Blaine's dreams couldn't change? That he couldn't meet a boy and decide that that was his dream, instead? To stick around for as long as possible just to make him smile?

Kurt stared at him, slightly stunned by his outburst.

"I'm sorry." Blaine sighed. "It's just hard. Making such a huge decision." He sat down next to Kurt, having to lift his legs in order to make room, replacing them on his lap.

Kurt nodded. "I know. But the way I see it…life's about experiences, or whatever, right? But how much experience can you really get here? It's like…you've seen it all. Here, at least. There's no more room to grow. So you've got to go somewhere else. It's like when you outgrow your shoes. You get a new pair."

In one of Kurt's spectacularly rare moments, his rambling struck a chord in a way that Blaine never thought it could. This was the Kurt he first met, the shy kid who spoke wisdom disguised by the naïve mouth it was coming out of.

"When did you get so smart?" Blaine asked, fondly.

"I've always been smart, asshole."

Blaine laughed then, and soon Kurt was laughing too. But then the two of them grew quiet, and simply looked at each other.

Blaine found that Kurt's presence was so startling. Even in silence. And whenever he was gone the room ached with the lack of him.

Kurt was so haunted. He couldn't find another word for it. Because he carried so much with him that even when they were the only two in the room Blaine could practically see Kurt's thoughts floating in the air, hear his mind buzzing endlessly, sense Kurt trying to make some sense of a world that was random and senseless.

And he'd watch Kurt try to dissect him, learned more about himself through Kurt's eyes than he would have through a mirror. Seen Kurt's eyes light up in recognition when one thing Blaine said meant a completely different thing, never realizing the double meaning in his own words until he saw the true meaning written all over Kurt's face.

Kurt made him feel so much all at once and if he were smart he wouldn't have let himself get lured in. Because from day one, when he first laid eyes on Kurt he had a sudden urge to know him; truly know him for all he was and all he is and all he could be.

Blaine spent endless nights feeling so sorry for what he'd done, what he was doing. But on some nights something would snap within him, and he'd know all at once that he would never fucking apologize for this beautiful mistake he'd made. He'd never feel an ounce of remorse for choosing Kurt.

So what if he'd only been on the earth for seventeen years? Sure, that wasn't a long time. But neither is twenty-seven. Neither is fifty-eight. Neither is one hundred.

There will never be enough time for all we need to say and do.

But all Blaine knew was that the universe could swallow him whole but it was this beautiful, haunted boy that was keeping him grounded.

And it was with that knowledge that Blaine leaned forward and kissed him. And then he kissed him again. And he found he couldn't stop himself from going further and further, unbuttoning Kurt's shirt and caressing bare skin and swallowing his sighs.

And just when he had the sense to stop Kurt squeezed his arm, pulled him even closer, whispered, "Please."

And Kurt's permission was enough for him.

Blaine didn't waste time placing wet kisses across Kurt's stomach, tugging down the ridiculously tight jeans

It was rushed, desperate, at times it made the both laugh breathlessly. It was completely unplanned.  _They_ were completely unplanned. Blaine didn't expect for his evening to go like this, let alone the whole year. But some of the most beautiful things on this earth are accidents.

When they both came down from their high they settled into a comfortable silence. Blaine stroked Kurt's hair, listened to his heart beat. Kurt was the first one to break the silence.

"I can't believe I just lost my virginity on a god damn  _couch_."

And then they were laughing again. Blaine never knew it was okay to laugh during such intimate moments, but Kurt didn't seem to be aware of any such rule, and if he was he didn't care.

Blaine felt something heavy settle in his chest, something that he was worried might have been guilt. But upon further searching he let out a sigh of relief, discovering it to be nothing but adoration and pure, unaltered happiness.

* * *

Kurt woke up in the middle of the night curled up against Blaine's side. The two of them had shared a shower—which had been eventful in and of itself—before collapsing in exhaustion on Blaine's bed.

Kurt took the moment to study Blaine's features while he slept. He had never seen him quite so still before. He seemed younger in a way that he never did while awake. Kurt stared a while longer before quietly getting out of bed, wearing a pair of pajama pants that were a little short on him and one of Blaine's old college t-shirts.

He headed to the kitchen, at first just intending to get a glass of water, but when he caught sight of the kettle he decided to make some tea.

He was surprisingly…calm. He half expected his manic nature to take over and for him to freak out for at least ten minutes, but not so much as a squeal escaped his lips. He just felt settled. Right. As if all was as it should've been.

When the kettle whistled he turned his back to the entrance in order to shut off the stove. He looked in the cupboard for a tea cup and poured in his hot water, not even hearing when Blaine came in.

"I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life with you." Kurt looked up, startled, to discover Blaine leaning against the counter and grinning sheepishly. "I mean-what I meant was…god, that was inappropriate. I'm sorry. I'll just-"

"I wouldn't mind it, either." Kurt admitted.

He supposed it was the closest either of them would get to admitting how much they needed each other.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an epilogue of sorts. There will be a few time skips, so be warned. And, of course, enjoy.

The last few weeks school made Kurt restless. There was no point to it all, it was just a simple formality. They learned nothing new,  _did_ nothing new, they were all simply waiting to be released and for summer to officially begin.

He and Blaine had reached a compromise. The teacher promised to stay until the end of July and Kurt was grateful. The half packed boxes continued to litter the apartment, however, a cruel reminder that Blaine already had one foot out of the door.

Summer was…well, hot. Ohio had reached record temperatures and business at Burt's shop was booming. It seemed people's engines just weren't built to withstand the heat. Even Blaine had stopped by the shop, talking to Burt in detail about how his car wouldn't stop making this rattling sound every time he exceeded 30 miles.

Kurt stood in the corner, watching the interaction with mild curiosity as opposed to doing that oil change he had promised. Blaine caught his eye. Blaine  _winked_. And that with a combination of the 92 degree weather was enough to make Kurt literally and figuratively melt.

Finn entered the garage with two cold cokes, handing one to Kurt and saying, "Dude, you look like you're gonna pass out. Want me to finish?"

Kurt merely nodded, grabbing the coke and taking a seat, trying to pretend like he wasn't watching Blaine from across the room.

"You make a hot grease monkey." Blaine teased, delighting in the way Kurt turned redder than he already was. The hot weather seemed to leave a permanent blush on his cheeks.

"You should have warned me you were coming by."

"And miss that adorable look of surprise on your face?"

Kurt glared at him. Of course, Blaine made up for it by driving them to the nearest ice cream parlor, getting them both large cones with sprinkles. It was melting rapidly, but they still licked at it leisurely, trying to savor it in all its sweetness and ending up with nothing but sticky fingers to show for it.

* * *

The end of July came quicker than either of them could have guessed it would. The half packed boxes that littered Blaine's apartment were now full, while the rest of the place lay barren. Kurt found himself growing incredibly sad as he stared at the blank walls, how a place where they had built to many of their memories now resembled a blank canvas.

All of it. Gone. And all it took was one afternoon of packing.

Blaine seemed to pick up on Kurt's melancholic mood and hugged him from behind, peppering kisses down the side of his neck, each seeming to say  _please don't be sad, please, I'll always need you,_ and Kurt turned around to kiss him once, hard on the mouth, except it happened again and again until they melted into one another, neither of them indistinguishable any longer.

When Blaine left, Kurt would be losing a vital part of himself.

* * *

The morning of Blaine's departure Kurt's car engine fell ill to the plague of the summer, refusing to start no matter Kurt's efforts. He hit his steering wheel in frustration, honking his horn so loudly that the birds perched on the sidewalk scattered in various directions.

He tried calling Blaine to let him know he'd be a bit late, to say  _don't leave, don't you dare leave without me saying goodbye,_ but the idiot didn't answer.

He called Quinn next, knowing she was the type to have plans on a summer afternoon but hoping by some freak accident she'd postpone them just for him.

"Kurt. How are you?" Quinn asked, the last time they had talked being the pool party Puck had hosted—in someone else's pool, mind you—earlier that summer. She sounded a bit vindictive. And he didn't blame her. He'd been doing a terrible job of keeping in touch with his friends over the weeks, but he figured he could focus on them  _after_.

"Great. Wonderful. I just…sort of need a favor."

Quinn scoffed. "I'm sure you do."

Kurt sighed. "I know I haven't…I'm a terrible human being, okay? But can we talk about that later? I'm sort of pressed for time."

"No, I think we should address it now, actually-"

"Blaine's at the airport. And he's leaving. He's leaving for…for good, I think. And I need to be there. I  _need_ to be there, Quinn, but my  _stupid_ car won't start and I didn't have the god damn sense to get it fixed even though my dad is a  _fucking_ mechanic and…well, anyway. I need a ride. Please."

The line was quiet. Kurt almost suspected she had hung up. "Fine."

"Fine?"

"Fine. I'll be there in ten. But you owe me."

Kurt knew he'd spend the rest of his life owing Quinn for everything she'd done for him, but he somehow didn't mind it.

* * *

"You used protection, I hope."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "No, we didn't. And now I've got the clap."

Quinn snorted, slowing to a stop at the red light and turning to raise an eyebrow at him. "How charming."

The two had been playing a game of catch up on the way to the airport, exchanging various stories , each trying to trump the next in terms of shock value.

"Well, get this: I've got a job."

"Do you?"

"Yeah. Babysitting, actually."

It was Kurt's turn to raise his eyebrow, waiting for the punch-line that never came.

"Don't give me that look. I'm perfectly capable of handling kids for one night."

"I'm sure you are. But the fact that people  _let you_ is what I'm trying to get."

"They don't know."

"I feel like that's illegal."

"…you're not lecturing me on legality, are you? Because I'm certain you've done  _several_ illegal things in about every position known to mankind."

Kurt, who normally would've taken high offense to that, found it within him to laugh.

He supposed he'd lost the right to cast the first stone a long time ago, but that was okay. Being a judgmental prick all the time had been incredibly exhausting, and if there's one thing he'd learned at all that year it was that everyone had their own reasons for being who they are, and that although surface is all he saw sometimes, it wasn't even a quarter of what was actually there.

Kurt realized he could no longer be jealous of Quinn Fabray, devastatingly pretty Quinn Fabray with the perfect life, simply because he'd realized that person and that life never existed.

* * *

Quinn had had one hell of a year. In fact, the last few years had turned out not at all like she expected it to. But as she watched Kurt and Blaine talk she suspected she hadn't been the only one.

Kurt had said "hi" and Blaine had said "hey" and the two of them laughed as if sharing some old joke.

She couldn't hear the rest of what either of them were saying behind security lines, but she knew it was something a lot more complicated than an "I love you" or an "I'll wait for you". There was something in their posture that let her know it was way more final than that, a goodbye in the true sense of the word. And her heart ached for them.

Sure, she hadn't liked the idea of them one bit. She still doesn't. She knew it could only end disastrously, or in heartache, and she had been right. But along with being right didn't come the feeling of victory she had expected, but rather an emptiness.

Blaine dropped his suitcases. The two hugged. And then they kissed. And Blaine whispered something in Kurt's ear that made him laugh.

And that was that. The two parted ways, Kurt walked back toward her, and it was only in their close proximity that Quinn could see his cheeks were stained with tears.

But his expression wasn't one of despair but rather gratefulness, and even a twinge of hope.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing important." Kurt answered simply.

Quinn didn't quite get it. But she supposed she wasn't meant to.

* * *

Blaine's life took a turn for the weirder over the next several months. Working with Dr. Nabokov had been equal parts rewarding as it was challenging. He quickly got accustomed to his colleagues, all of them from various walks of life that Blaine couldn't even begin to understand.

There was Polly who was a mere 22 years old and recruited fresh out of college, with a tattoo sleeve on each arm and shockingly red hair, so effortlessly cool in a way that led Blaine to believe in other circumstances they wouldn't have given each other the time of day. But she was kind, if not brutally honest, and that trait alone reminded him of someone.

There was Tanya and Bruce, a research duo from Georgia who looked to be around thirty, polar opposites when one took into account Tanya's dark skin, while Bruce looked as if he'd been locked up in a basement for several odd years. And where Bruce was panicky and squeamish, Tanya was quick-witted and always thought on her toes. Although his thoughtfulness balanced out her brashness, and he could tell the two of them worked together for many years.

There was Ishmal from overseas, who had a wicked sense of humor and an even more wicked taste in music. But that was all Blaine really knew about him. He was friendly, yet distant, not talking much about his past or his previous home.

There was Dr. Nabokov himself, who appeared to be straight out of a movie with all of his eccentrics.

Blaine realized he'd be spending a long, long time with those people, but he also knew he was being given a great opportunity that most would die for.

"What's your story, Anderson?" Tanya inquired over a glass of red wine. All of them had had a late night at the lab, and decided to order take out and trade various stories.

Blaine laughed nervously. "I don't really have a story."

"Oh, please." Polly drawled. "No one comes from Ohio to this without having a story."

Blaine knew she was right, but it never felt like his story to tell. Not really.

"I guess…I guess I'm just lucky, then."

"So you're here on pure chance, is that right?" Tanya asked.

"Lord knows none of us planned to get here. Hell, I'm not even qualified." Ishmal added.

"I'll drink to that!" Bruce declared, and they all raised their glasses.

And just like that Blaine was let off the hook, graced with the privilege of being a pretty face without a story, someone simply there to balance out the rest of the team.

* * *

Kurt's senior year had gone tremendously more smoothly than his junior year, and he'd passed his last year with flying colors, not to mention a Nationals win under his belt. That accompanied with him operating as Vice President of the school under Quinn as well as doing a shit ton of community service had placed him on the waiting list to NYU and gotten him accepted into numerous other colleges.

It wasn't until mid-April that he got officially accepted. He busted Finn's door down in the middle of the afternoon and screamed in his face, not at all deterred by Finn's mortified expression as well as the hand he'd had down his pants.

Burt's reaction had been one of pure elation, picking Kurt up and hoisting him in the air as if he was six years old all over again, saying how proud he was. Kurt found himself moved to tears, realizing that less than a year ago he hadn't known if his dad would stick around long enough for them to share this moment.

Chandler had gotten in, too, and of course Quinn with all her smarts—as well as a killer sob story—managed to get her way into Columbia to pursue her BA in business.

He and Blaine rarely talked, for both of their sakes, any time they did communicate being due to one of them being either drunk, lonely, incredibly happy, or a combination of all three.

Kurt tried to call Blaine and tell him the great news, but when he hadn't gotten an answer on the sixth ring he hung up in a wave of sudden embarrassment. Blaine had most likely moved on. And that was okay.

* * *

The wedding was beautiful, when it finally happened. They had kept pushing the date back, and even though Santana spent countless phone conversations trying to convince Blaine that no time was the  _right_ time, Blaine knew that she was just afraid to take that final step. To commit to one person for the rest of her life.

"San, you can't keep doing this."

"Doing what? It's not my fault the caterers are booked until next August. And I  _have_ to have them, everything has to be perfect."

"Do you love her?" Blaine asked suddenly. "Like, I don't mean love, love. I mean are you  _in_ love with her? Do you stay up at night wondering what the  _hell_ you did to deserve someone like her?"

Santana stayed quiet for a long while. "I do."

Blaine smiled. "And you'd have no problem saying that an altar, right?"

"Well, duh."

"Then the wedding will be perfect. But do us all a favor and have it before we all start getting wrinkles."

"It's always about your vanity, isn't it?" She asked, but he could hear her smiling.

* * *

Brittany and Santana looked borderline ethereal in their gowns, and seeing Santana beam the way she did was definitely worth the drive over.

Her smile was so different than the one that graced the billboards, hanging high above everyone's head. This smile was personal; it brought everyone in the room closer together.

When the two exchanged I do's and kissed the whole room erupted in cheers, even Cooper couldn't help but admit that what he was witnessing was true love. The two or so paparazzi allowed in took pictures; immortalizing the moment for generations to come.

At the reception Santana found time between the drinking and the dancing to find Blaine, and hug him so tightly he felt his ribcage starting to concave.

"I never properly thanked you for the advice." She said when she finally pulled away. "I have no idea where it came from, but thank you."

Blaine didn't reveal his secret, and Santana didn't further implore.

* * *

"I'm gonna die."

"Probably." Chandler confirmed as he stared into the menagerie, applying make-up liberally.

They were backstage and it was to be the debut of Kurt's first stageplay, and he couldn't even feel his face.

"Why aren't you more nervous?" Kurt asked.

"Because I trust you and your brilliant script." Chandler said. "Aaaand if this does all go to shit it's your grade, not mine."

"Ah, yes. I've missed our pep talks."

Kurt adjusted to his new school quickly, being helped tremendously by the fact that Chandler and he lived on campus, and if he needed to visit Quinn was only a subway ride away.

They spent New Years' together in Quinn's apartment with her roommate, a girl named Kendra that could play the drums  _really_ well, a fact that reminded Kurt of Finn, who he hadn't seen in a few months considering he and Puck went to Ohio State. Chandler also invited Adam, some guy he'd been trying to hook Kurt up with for  _months_ despite Kurt's protests that it  _so wasn't_ happening.

Adam sat in the audience that night, and so did Kendra and Quinn and god knows who else, various people that Chandler's theater friends had invited, as well as everyone from Kurt's playwriting class. It was a full house.

Once Kurt had calmed down enough he took his own seat in the audience, watching his work come to life in front of him. And it hadn't been terrible. Sure, a few mishaps occurred that made Kurt hold his breath, but a simple look around at the audience assured him that no one else had noticed. And Chandler was  _really_ good at portraying a drag queen whose stage name was Charlene.

As soon as the curtain closed Kurt went back stage to congratulate the small cast.

As he was talking to them a crew member he didn't recognize—which was a shame because she had a very distinct look about her, what with the tattoos and the shockingly red hair—announced, "Message for Mr. Hummel." before handing him a white rose.

The rose itself was light, but it felt heavy in Kurt's hands, and it only took him a moment to place the last time he had gotten a white rose from anyone.

He ran after the girl, ignoring Chandler's teasing of a secret admirer and nearly knocking over an ensemble member or two in his pursuit. She kept turning corners, just out of his reach until she exited the building. Kurt didn't hesitate to follow her into the cold night air, not caring that it was cutting into his skin due to his lack of a coat.

"So that's your story, huh?" He heard the girl say. "He's cute."

And that's when he walked further and saw who she was talking to.

His mouth fell open in shock. But his hand still gripped the rose's stem as if holding onto dear life itself.

"Hey." Blaine smiled, his eyes alight with mischief as well as something else that always went without saying. Because Kurt knew and he always, has always,  _would_ always feel the same.

But that didn't stop him from picking up some of the snow with his bare hands, fashioning it into a compact ball that he  _knew_ would hurt, and throwing it square into Blaine's face.

He remembered over a year ago, in a parking lot, when Blaine had dared to call him predictable. He figured things hadn't changed that much. They hadn't changed. And even if they had, the expression of surprise that Blaine wore on his face was similar to the one of that day. And seeing something so familiar was such a comfort to him in the harsh winter night, in a city that could sometimes be so needlessly cruel.

"Hi." Kurt said after several moments of silence, because he knew "fuck you" would have been inappropriate. Possibly even inaccurate. His feelings were getting the best of him. They always did. He stepped foreward and urged Blaine to close his eyes, brushing away the lingering snow that clung to his eyelashes.

That was his way of saying thank you. Thank-you to Blaine for having the opportunity to ruin him completely, to mess him up for life, but somehow managing to leave him relatively unscathed. Free to love again. Whatever any of that meant.

"Did you like the show?" Kurt asked, not verbalizing any of this.

"I thought it was brilliant." Blaine admitted. "Hated the ending, though."

That earned him another snowball to the face. The two laughed. And that opened the door for everything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it. This has really been fun to share with you all, and thank you so much for all of the feedback and positivity. 
> 
> P.S. Although a sequel is highly unlikely, would there be any interest in one? Just curious.


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